

I --I 



' 




fl-i I I ■ 






n Kail Brothers, 

Hj BOOKSEIXERS, 

■ I ELMIRA., N. Y. 






I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, I 



St 



ll UmjEO STATES OF AMERSCA. i 



rf irnTi -n^.tii. 



ko 



ELEMENTS 



OF 



MOEAL PHILOSOPHY; 

AISTALYTICAL, 
SYI^THETICAL, Al^D PRACTICAL. 



BY 



HUBBARD WmSLOW, 



AUTHOR OF INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



1^^^ 




NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETO]^^ AIS^D COMPAI^Y 

LONDON : 16 LITTLE BRITAIN. 

1858. 



'7h 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, 

By D. APPLETON & CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 

District of New York. 



PEEFAOE. 



The cause of morals has its strongliold in man's innate 
consciousness of responsibility. Mammon is enshrined in 
his lust of gain, power in his pride of dominion, fame in 
his thirst of applause, and pleasure in his sensual desire ; 
hence the dependence of all these is capricious, and their 
rewards are at the best transient ; while morality reposes, 
with calm and eternal assurance, in his imperishable con- 
viction that he is res23onsible for his conduct. Against 
this conviction infidelity arrays its arguments, and vice 
hurls its scorn in vain. 

Morality, as a science^ is so implicated with psychology, 
that it cannot be erected symmetrical and entire without 
its aid ; but as 2ijpractiGe^ it can rise without that aid even 
to its culmen. No systematic psychology is taught in the 
Bible, yet the highest practical morality is taught there. 
Metaphysics and logic are also of service in the erection 
and defence of its outposts, especially " when Greek 
meets Greek ; " but, unless obedient to the high behests 



4 PREFACE. 

of consciousness, they become little else than troublesome 
cobwebs. The feeble and the unwary are frequently 
caught in their meshes, but the snare is at length broken 
and the victims escape. 

It seems to have been a prevailing error of the theo- 
rizing moralist, that, instead of taking his stand-point di- 
rectly and centrally in man's consciousness of freedom 
and accountability, and making metaphysics and logic 
subservient to him in that position, he has first entrenched 
himself behind metapliysical speculations and logical de- 
ductions, and then called upon consciousness to yield to 
their requirements.- He has thus given the dominion to 
the wrong master ; he has placed his cause in the wrong 
hands. In the gossamery subtleties of speculative and 
tmnscendental metaphysics, the learned Brahmans of India 
excel all other philosophers ; they even out-German the 
Germans. Yet we find little in Brahminical lore that is 
truthful and actual ; little that renders man really wiser 
and better. 

The general nature of the present work may be hence 
anticipated by the reader. It is throughout a direct and 
confiding appeal to his conscious sense of accountability. 
It presents to him no wire-drawn arguments, no meta- 
physical subtleties, and no complicated deductions of 
logic. Its proofs are mostly statements of undeniable 
truths, sometimes attended with illustration, and confi- 
dently submitted to his practical judgment and conscience. 

It is because the central law of conviction and belief 
is essentially the same in all minds, and because all men 



PREFACE. 5 

are endowed with a consciousness of moral obligation, 
that the Bible, although written at different periods and 
in every variety of composition and style, is reasonably 
addressed to all classes alike ; that it has demonstrated its 
power to withstand every assault, and with firm and yet 
firmer voice, as time rolls along, continues to challenge 
the undoubting homage of the world. As the present 
volume is restricted within the legitimate limits of moral 
science, it does not profess to teach religion ; yet what- 
ever philosophy it teaches, if true, must harmonize with 
religious truth. If, then, our philosophy shall be found at 
variance with the Bible, or shall tend to mystify and 
enfeeble its plain and nervous demands upon every heart 
and conscience, it will deservedly come to naught, with 
all other " philosophy falsely so called." 

It will be the author's humble endeavor to disintegrate 
and define the materials for the work in hand, to elimi- 
nate the principles by which to arrange them, and to re- 
construct them in a system of scientific and practical 
morality, without embarrassing the reader with conflicting 
theories and speculations, but by a direct " manifestation 
of the truth, commending " it " to every man's conscience 
in the sight of God." The apostles commended themselves 
to the consciences of men, not less by the directness of 
their appeals than by the purity of their lives. 

This volume was promised by the writer, some years 
since, in the preface of his Intellectual Philosophy. Con- 
trary to his intention, that volume has passed through 
several editions without its promised accompaniment. 



6 PREFACE. 

The delay has been occasioned by his ill health and ab- 
sence in Europe, and his desire to make the book as 
worthy of the public as possible. So grave and difficult 
a work could not be safely hurried. Great consideration 
was due to the many able writers upon this subject. 'No 
pains have been spared to examine them in their own 
languages, at least upon all doubtful or critical points, 
and to give due weight to their various reasonings and 
opinions. 

Having thus bestowed upon the work much careful 
thought and research, more than is obvious to persons not 
conversant with studies of this nature, the author now re- 
spectfully submits it to teachers, students, and all thought- 
ful inquirers after truth and duty, with the hope that it 
may meet their approbation, and may contribute some- 
thing towards assisting the reader to understand and to 
fulfil his responsible mission. 

That the young reader especially, whose life is still 
mostly in prospect, whether hastening to the calls of 
business and of domestic care, or aspiring to the higher 
walks of literature and of the learned professions, may 
not, by a perversion or neglect of his powers and oppor- 
tunities, allow that existence to sink into an essentially 
grovelling and worthless affair, which he ought to make 
sublime and glorious, is the earnest desire and prayer of 
his very sincere friend. 

The ArTHOK. 



CONTENTS 



PAOX 

Ikteoditotion, .......... 18 



PART I 



THE NATUBAL MOTIVE POWERS. 

CHAPTEE I.— DIVISION of the mental poweks. 

The mental powers and exercises divisible into two general classes. Their mutual 
dependence. The motive powers of two kinds. Each kind defined. The states 
and exercises of the motive powers, natural or moral. Illustrations, . . 21 

CHAPTER II.— NATXJKAL APPETITE. 

Two natural appetites. Their object. Errors respecting them. Undue indulgence. 
Undue severity. Their relation to pleasure. Illustrations. Design of the gifts 
of Providence, .......... 92 

CHAPTEE III.— MOEBID APPETITE, 

Diseased by nature. Vitiated in childhood. Injured by indulgence, bad example, 
false association of ideas, wanton imagination, recklessness of the future. End of 
such indulgence, Eules for controlling appetite, . . . . .43 

CHAPTEE IV, — NATtTBAL AFFECTION. 

Distinction between affection and desire ; between natural and moral affection. Pa- 
rental affection ; filial ; fraternal ; conjugal. General view of the domestic affec- 
tions. Social affection. Patriotism, , , . . . . .52 

CHAPTEE v.— NATURAL DESIRE, 

Distinction between desire and appetite. Desire of life ; of happiness ; of society ; 
of knowledge; of esteem; of owning; of power. The designs of the Creator 
learned from our constitutional powers, . . . . . .65 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTEE YI.— XATUEAL emotion. 

Various emotions. How designated. Emotions of beauty ; of sublimity ; of terror ; 
of the ludicrous ; of surprise and wonder. Simultaneous Emotions. Objective 
causes of emotion. Unclassified emotions. Distinction between emotion and 
affection ; between emotion and desire, . . . . . .88. 

CHAPTEE VII.— NATURAL VOLITION. 

When volition is strictly natural. Distinction between volition and rational will. 
Natural agency of volition over the body. Voluntary, semivoluntary, and invol- 
untary movements. Agency of volition over the intellectual powers, . . 95 



PART II. 

THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWEES. 

CHAPTEE I.— CONSCIENCE. 

Terms indicating duty in all languages. Intellect concerned in ascertaining duty ; 
conscience in securing the performance of it. Intuition or pure reason ; appre- 
hends the first truths of all sciences. Definition of conscience. Not a simple 
mental faculty or moral sense. Includes the reason and the susceptibility to 
moral distinctions. Has three functions, ...... lOS 

CHAPTEE II.— vAKiors views of conscience. 

Not a moral judgment. Not a moral sense. Not a teacher, like the senses, but must 
itself be taught. Tendencies of the difi"erent views. Disastrous effects of making 
an unreasonable conscience a guide. "We ought always to obey conscience ; also 
to enlighten it, so as to act reasonably. How men should be incited to duty, . 116 

CHAPTEE III.— DIKECTIONS FOR THE CULTTJEE OP CONSCIENCE. 

Enlighten the understanding. Have singleness of purpose. Mistake not other im- 
pulses for it. Do no violence to scruples. Obey it promptly. Obedience must 
be determined and persistent. Often review the past. In view of failures repent 
and reform. Be grateful for success. The demands of conscience must never be 
resisted, ........... 129 

CHAPTEE IV.— TASTE. 

Definition. Man without taste. Conscience and taste combined. Their compara- 
tive importance. Illustrations. Every person has his own ideal of beauty. The 
ideal in advance of the executive ability. Taste independent of the outer world. 
Examples. Design of taste. Culture of it, 18S 

CHAPTEE v.— WILL. 

What we mean by will. In what sense acts of will are caused. The law of cause and 
effect in the moral world unlike that in the natural. Occasional and efficient 



CONTENTS. 



FAOB 

causes. How the will is determined. Objective and subjective motives. Dis- 
tinction between the will and the affections. View of Edwards. The will may 
resist the affections ; also the other feelings. "When acts of will are rational and 
responsible, ..... .... 152 



PART III. 

MORAL ACTION. 

CHAPTEE I.— MORALLY EIGHT AFFECTION. 

Defined. "What it includes. Love a right affection. Instinctive in its origin. Con- 
science commends it. Christianity enjoins it. The affection due to God. Eight 
domestic affections. Conjugal love; parental; filial; fraternal. Eight social 
affection. Eight affection for bad men ; for enemies. Philanthropy, . . 165 

CHAPTEE II. — MOBALLT WEONG AFFECTIOK. 

Views of Eeid and others. Malevolence never right. "We do not need it. True self- 
defence. Instinctive and deliberate resentment. "We were not made to hate. 
Malevolent affection in every form condemned by Christianity, . . . 182 

CHAPTEE III. — MORALLY EIGHT DESIEE. 

Of two kinds. Self-love. "What it includes. Desire for the welfare of others should 
embrace all mankind. Views of infidel writers. Morality and Christianity agree. 
Various developments of benevolent desire, ..... 195 

CHAPTEE IV.— MORALLY WEONG DESIEE. 

Distinction between retaliation and self-defence. Covetousness. "When desires are 
covetous. "When the desire of pleasure is wrong. Emulation. Views of Butler, 
Eeid, and others. Eemarks upon them. Concessions of the advocates of rivalry, 296 

CHAPTEE V. — MOEALLY EIGHT EMOTION. 

Passionate emotion ; when right. Emotion of love ; of sympathy ; of forgiveness ; 
of gratitude; of penitence; of humility; of confidence; of self-approbation, . 226 

CHAPTEE VI.— MOEALLY WEONG EMOTION. 

Emotion of hatred never right Emotion of anger; of revenge; of envy ; of pride; 
of jealousy; of remorse; of despair, ....... 233 

CHAPTEE VII.— MORALLY EIGHT WILL. 

Moral will defined. Agency of will over the appetites ; over the affections ; over the 
desires ; over the emotions. Moral certainty does not impair freedom. Courage. 
Fortitude. Firmness, ......... 24T 



10 CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VIII.— MORALLY WKONG WILL. 

Man's rational powers distinguished from the man himself. We are alike responsible 
for the use of our natural, and of our rational powers. No degree of excitement 
exonerates from responsibility. An extreme case of excitement of appetite ; of 
affection; of desire; of emotion. Permanent wrong choice. Stoicism. Cowardice. 
Obstinacy, 257 

CHAPTES IX.— souECB of the morality of actions. 

Yarious views. Now mostly reduced to three : that which places the source in the 
affections and desires ; that which places it in the will ; and that which makes 
man a machine. Pantheism. Nature of a radical moral change. Characteristic 
distinction of an upright man, ....... 26T 



PART IV. 

PRINCIPLES. 

I. NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 

CHAPTER I. — theories of the law of right. 

Principles of morality defined. They are essential, and positiA^e. The arbitrary theory. 
The greatest happiness theory. The highest good theory. The subjective theory. 
Objections to these several theories. Some of them embrace more truth than 
others, but neither embraces the whole truth, ..... 2T9 

CHAPTER II.— first principles. 

All sciences have them. How known. Learned in the concrete. First ideas of right 
and wrong. Principles objective. Yirtues subjective. Grounds in which prin- 
ciples are apprehended. Principle of temperance ; of chastity ; of benevolence ; 
of justice; of veracity; of fidelity; of gratitude. Maybe universally known, . 294 

CHAPTER III.— morality taught by experience. 

How duty is learned by experience. Paley. When we are responsible for conse- 
quences. When indulgence is immoral. Fashion and dress. Conflict of taste 
with utility. The principle of prohibitory laws. Morality of amusements. The 
test by which to try them, ........ 870 

II. REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 

CHAPTER lY. — morality of Christianity. 

Relation of Christianity to our several faculties : to the appetites ; affections ; desires ; 
emotions ; conscience ; taste ; will. Its standard of appeal, . . .320 



CONTENTS. 11 



CHAPTEE v.— KEVBALED FACTS OF OHKISTIANITT. 

Existence and perfections of the true God. Creation of man. His primitive purity. 
Origin and extent of human sinfulness. The dispensation of grace. The certain- 
ty of future existence and retributions. Eesurrection of the body. Principles of 
duty deduced from these facts, ....... 330 

CHAPTEE VI.— INSTITITTIONS OF CIIKI8T1ANITT. 

The Sabbath. The primitive Sabbath. The Mosaic Sabbath. The Christian Sab- 
bath. Eeasons for the change. How the day should be observed, . . 336 

CHAPTEE VII.— INSTITUTIONS of cheistianitt continued. 

Marriage. "When instituted. Its nature and design. Polygamy not of divine ori- 
gin. The marriage covenant binding for life. 

Public Wokship. An institution of the Mosaic religion. Modified and perpetuateel 
by Christianity. The nature of the worship required. 

The Chuech. Instituted by Christ and his apostles. Planted by them in various 
places. Its ordinances. The enhanced privilege and obligation of those to 
whom Christianity is given, ......... 344 



PART V. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 

CHAPTEE I.— eeligious duties. 

Obedience to God demanded by his perfections ; by his relations to us. Nature of 
the service due to him. Duty in reference to the Bible. Eepentance. Faith. 
Prayer. Praise. Observance of the Sabbath. Other duties, . . . 357 

CHAPTEE II.— PEESONAL duties. 

Self-respect. Self-control. Self-defence. Self-purity. Self-providing. Self-culture. 
Self-salvation, .......... 371 

CHAPTEE III.— conjugal duties. 

Union of affection ; of interest ; of parental love ; of regard for relatives ; of domestic 
responsibility. The covenant enjoins chastity and fidelity. Eelative position of 
the parties. Duties of the husband to the wife ; of the wife to the husband, . 387 

CHAPTEE IV.— paeental duties. 

Parental affection; guardianship; government; maintenance; education. Specific 
rules and duties involved in the physical, intellectual, moral, and religious train- 
ing of children, .,,...,... 402 



12 CONTENTS. 



CHAPTEE v.— FIXIAL DUTIES. 

Counterpart to parental. Filial love; reverence; obedience; gratitude; docility. 
Yalue and importance of these duties, ...... 417 

CHAPTER YI.— FKATEENAL DUTIES. 

Fraternal affection. How manifested. Should continue through, life. Mutual in- 
fluence of children. Particular duties of brothers to sisters. Of sisters to broth- 
ers. Of the elder to the younger children. Mutual obligations in after life, . 426 

CHAPTER VII.— CIVIL duties. 

Their nature. "What is meant by a state. Civil government. Magistrates. Citizens. 
Civil duties considered under three heads. I. Duties of the State : Should 
adapt the government to the people ; place the best qualified men in office ; pro- 
vide for her prosperity and defence ; employ the sanctions of religion ; administer 
judicial oaths ; have the control of all property ; not allow unfair monopolies ; 
foster education and religion ; enact and enforce laws prohibiting treasonable and 
vicious conduct, ......... 436 

CHAPTER VIII. — civil duties coktinued. 

II. Duties of Magistbates. Legislators. Judges. Executive officers. Rules of 
the pardoning power. III. Duties of Citizens. General rule is obedience. 
"When obedience is not a duty. Reform and revolution. Reform by the people ; 
revolution by the state. Attempts at revolution by the people generally fail. 
Why they fail. The difficulty solved. Freedom of personal will, . . 449 

CHAPTER IX.— SOCIAL duties. 

These duties defined. The law of universal love. Courtesy. Kindness. Forbear- 
ance. Charity. Hospitality. Generosity. Faithfulness. Duties of master and 
servant ; of teacher and pupU ; of neighbors ; of fellow-citizens ; of fellow-men, 461 

C30K0LUSI0N, .......... 479 



INTEODUCTION. 



Between most of the learned books of moral philosophy and 
the popular mind there is a great chasm. The same is true of 
the searching reviews of them in the Quarterlies and Monthlies. 
Instructive and interesting to those conversant with philosophical 
speculations, to all others they are in a great measure unintel- 
ligible. This volume is not designed to take the place of any of 
these, but to assist the student to understand them, and to benefit 
the general reader. 

Although the writer has carefully examined the most impor- 
tant works accessible upon this subject, and has endeavored to 
secure all available advantage from them, he has yet ventured upon 
a plan of analysis and arrangement, mostly original. His object 
has been to avoid giving undue prominence to disputed points, 
which are often really least important, and to present the entire 
subject, with its just proportions, in a clearly practical light, and 
as related to Christianity, in a way to bring it within the appre- 
hension of the attentive popular reader, as well as the student. 
He has, with the same view, written in a simple but free style, 
sometimes expanding and repeating the thoughts and placing 
them in various lights, for their greater elucidation and enforce- 
ment. 

But it is hoped the reader will not identify simplicity of 



14 mTEODUCTION. 

language with shallowness of thought. Few tasks are easier, 
on subjects like the one in hand, than that of introducing strange 
words, learned quotations, and mysterious arguments ; thus chal- 
lenging a claim to erudition and to depth of thought, while con- 
founding the student with the jargon of the schools. 

The physician's learned and mysterious prescription becomes 
a very obyious affair, when put in plain language. It respects 
perhaps a common herb in your yard or garret, whose proper- 
ties your grandmother knew before the learned doctor was born. 
This however does not alter the nature or diminish the value of 
the remedy. So it is with philosophy. The chasm between the 
learned and the ignorant is often more in the language than in 
the thought. 

On some important points the writer's views will be seen to 
differ from those of authors, whose opinions it may seem presump- 
tuous to question. But he could conscientiously do no less than 
frankly express his own views, giving his reasons for them, and 
leaving the candid reader to judge of their correctness. The par- 
ticular points referred to, have respect to the precise nature and 
functions of the rational motive powers, especially the conscience ; 
the origin and quality of certain malevolent affections and desires ; 
the source of the moral quality of actions; the jfirst ideas or 
principles of morality ; and the groundwork and limits of human 
accountability. On all these points profound and earnest in- 
quiries have been often raised, and to these the reader's careful 
attention is particularly solicited. 

Our general subject is divided into Five Parts. In the First, 
we distinguish between the intellective and the motive powers, 
and between human actions as natural or moral. In the Second, 
we examine the nature and functions of the rational motive pow- 
ers. In the Third, we distinguish between moral actions as right 
or wrong. In the Fourth, we investigate the principles of moral- 
ity. In the Fifth, we expound the code of human duties. 

The two leading schools of philosophy are the transcendental 
and the phenomenal. Of the former are Leibnitz, Kant, Schelling, 
Fichte, Hegel, Cousin, and most of the other Continental writers, 



rNTRODUOTION. 15 

together with Cudworth, Coleridge, Morelle and others in Eng- 
land and in America. Of the latter are most of the English and 
Scotch philosophers, of whom Sir William Hamilton is perhaps 
at present the most able champion. 

The former school speculate ontologically upon the absolute 
and the infinite, regarding all inquiry respecting the mere phenom- 
enal as '• dirt philosophy." They distinguish between the reason 
and the understanding, Vernumft \md Verstand^ considering the 
former that sublime faculty by which we transcend the phenom- 
enal universe, and directly possess unconditioned and absolute 
ideas ; and regarding the latter faculty as that by which, through 
the bodily senses and a discursive process, we obtain those ideas 
which are conditioned in nature. The " reason " is considered 
generic to the race, the " image of Grod " in man, and that by 
virtue of which man sees truths to some extent as God does, and 
is therefore a revelation to himself. Hence this philosophy is 
primarily and intensely subjective, and hence the tendency of all 
its advocates, from Leibnitz to Carlyle, to exalt human reason 
above divine revelation and to substitute man-worship for Grod- 
worship. 

The latter school maintain, that it is only by the study of the 
phenomenal universe, aided by express revelation from Grod, that 
we obtain any just and positive ideas of what transcends it. They 
consider reason, as understood by the other school, an intuitive 
faculty, but suppose that our intuitive ideas, like all others, are 
not innate but acquired, and are first apprehended not in the ab- 
stract but in the concrete. Through the study of the phenom- 
enal we ascend with conditioned and positive ideas to the limits 
of human knowledge, whence we look off upon the illimitable and 
awful unknown, learning thence only our ignorance. 

Grod himself is transcendent, absolute, infinite ; seen only by 
the eye of faith ; known only as the I AM, whom no mortal can 
know, excepting in his works. He is above the phenomenal uni- 
verse and gives rise to it. Whatever be the powers of the 
" reason " in man, they are not infinite ; hence no human reason 
can comprehend Grod ; for the finite cannot comprehend the in- 



16 INTEODUCTION. 

finite. By studying his two great revelations, his works and his 
word, we are enabled to know something of him, enough for our 
present mode of being ; but " who by searching can find out Grod?" 

If we are liable to be unduly fascinated with the bold and 
splendid speculations of the Continental philosophers, we may be 
equally liable to do them injustice. Our language, our institu- 
tions, our intellectual training and habits of thinking, are so up- 
like theirs, that we often find ourselves compelled to be in just 
doubt whether we apprehend their real meaning. To quote and 
comment upon detached portions of their writings, without a 
more prolonged and earnest study of them, in* their own lan- 
guage and under their own teaching, than is often given, amounts 
to little else than a pedantic show of learning, unjust to them, 
and profitless to the reader. But after making due allowance 
for these causes and for national prejudice, we are constrained to 
think, that with all their subtlety of intellect and brilliancy of 
imagination, they do not appear to best advantage in mental 
science. 

For clearness, precision, and beauty of language ; for exact 
analyses in the physical sciences ; for minuteness and correctness 
of detail in natural history ; for every form of sensuous and social 
culture that directly tends to embellish life ; the French are un- 
rivalled. While for richness, freedom, and pathos of language; 
for patient plodding in study, and bold daring in speculation ; for 
abounding and successful endeavors in the great field of herme- 
neutics ; and for the heaven- winged poetry of fearless and glowing 
imagination ; the Germans are pre-eminent. 

But for thorough practical common sense in the great busi- 
ness of life; for the successful investigation of the principles 
which underlie all science ; for severe and exacting logic, as ap- 
plied to solving the problem of human destiny ; for apprehending 
the true nature and end of all governments, especially of that 
which respects man as an accountable and immortal being ; we 
fall back upon the strong, clear, Anglo-Saxon intellect as the 
most reliable. 

Although the author has endeavored to render the subject as 



INTRODUCTION. 1^ 

plain as possible, readers must not presume that any effort of his can 
exonerate them from the necessity of earnest and patient thought. 
Every person must " think on these things," if he would under- 
stand them. And they are truly worthy of his most laborious 
thought. " Happy is the man that findeth wisdom ; the merchan- 
dise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain 
thereof than fine gold. She is more precious than rubies, and 
all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared with her." 
This " wisdom " of such priceless value, is the practical knowh 
edge of the truths and duties herein discussed. 

The public mind is so preoccupied with more exciting and 
fascinating topics, that it is with no expectation of temporal gain 
that the writer adventures before the public upon a subject like 
this. But if any thing is successfully done towards promoting 
an interest in this kind of study, towards making plain the path 
of duty, towards guiding and encouraging fellow beings to secure 
the great object of life, it will be remembered with inexpressible 
gratitude when all earthly considerations shall have passed away. 

It is greatly to be desired that the reading public have their 
attention directed more than it is to studies of this nature ; and 
especially that educational institutions give them more promi- 
nence. The thought of the age is projected outward. Natural 
sciences, practical arts, languages, history, with works of imagina- 
tion, are the absorbing subjects. These are important. They 
elevate and refine humanity, but they cannot save it. 

If duty is neglected, all is lost ! However great and splen- 
did his other attainments, without the " wisdom " to which we 
have referred, man is in a perilled and miserable condition. It is 
only as he obtains this wisdom, and sacredly holds it as the treas- 
ure of his heart, that his present existence is rendered safe and 
happy, and that he can see his way clearly onward into the ever- 
lasting ages. 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



MoEAi. Philosophy is the science which treats of our 
responsibilities and duties. It investigates the principles 
of morality, as they exist of necessity, or in the nature of 
things ; and also as they are involved in positive institu- 
tions claiming to be obligatory. 

It neither assumes nor ignores the truth of any particu- 
lar religion. It subjects religious claims to the same ordeal 
to which it does all others. It is, hence, the rational pio- 
neer to an enlightened religious faith. It goes everywhere 
with the inquiry. What is morally right ? 

]^ot that we must be philosophical before we can be 
religious. A devout spirit is the duty of even the most 
untaught, and is an important aid in all inquiries after 
truth and duty. "We must not wait until we can philoso- 
phize upon food before we eat ; some experience of effects 
must precede searching inquiry into causes. IlTeither 
should we wait to learn all the grounds and reasons of 
duty, before doing what we already know to be right. 

Christianity, although proved to be divine, does not 
make us accountable beings. It assumes that we a/re 



20 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

such. ; that is, it assumes what philosophy teaches. It 
builds upon necessary and fundamental truths. Our obli- 
gations are enhanced by it; but they originate in our 
moral constitution, as related to essential and everlasting 
laws. 

Moral Philosophy investigates, also, the springs of 
human conduct ; distinguishes between actions as natural 
or moral, and between moral actions as right or wrong ; 
and subjects all its teachings to an order or nexus, so as 
to embrace them in a harmonious system. 

Our subject is naturally divided into Five Parts. We 
are to examine 

I. — ^The JSTattiiiai. Motive Powers. 
n. — ^The Rational Motive Powers. 
m. — Moral Action. 
lY. — ^The Ppinciples of Morality. 
Y. — ^The Code of Duties. 



PAET I. 

THE NATUEAL MOTIVE POWERS, 



CHAPTEE I. 

THE MENTAL POWERS AND EXERCISES DISTINGTHSHED. 

The mental faculties are divisible into two generic classes : 
the intellective and the motive. The former are the 
knowing faculties ; or those by direct yirtue of which we 
hnowJ^ The latter are the moving faculties ; or those by 
direct virtue of which we act. The philosophical refine- 
ment which would merge these two classes into one, and 
consider a feeling only a vivid idea, is beyond our com- 
prehension, and is so much aside from the practical 
judgment of mankind as to be of no importance in this 
connection. 

Both of these classes of mental powers, however, are 
active ; but their activities are of different kinds. The 
activity of the former is speculative ; finding its end in 

* The terms intellective and intellect are used in this work to denote all the 
knowing powers both of reason and sense. 



22 MOEAL PHILOSOPHT. 

knowledge. The activity of the latter is practical ; find- 
ing its end in action. An examination of the former 
belongs to Intellectual Philosophy ; that of the latter, to 
Moral Philosophy. 

As all responsible action is directly predicable of the 
latter, they are often called moral powers. But they 
have also important functions which involve no moral 
quality. Dugald Stewart calls them actwe powers. But 
the powers of intellect, as we have said, are also active, 
although in a different way. 



THE TEEMS POWER AND FAOTJLTY^r 

We use the terms power and faculty as synonymous, 
and, in accordance with established usage, to indicate 
what is strictly a state or exercise of mind, as well as a con- 
stitutional ability. A desire or volition is a power, because 
in virtue of it we are induced to act. In the same view 
we also call it a motive. But the power to desire or to 
choose, sustains, of course, some relation of cause to the 
desire or choice, and lies back of it in the mental constitu- 
tion. The terms in question are applied to both, but the 
reader will easily see by the connection to which they 
refer. 

VAEIOUS TEEMS APPLIED TO THE MOTIVE POWEES. 

The motive powers are variously named, according to 
the particular relations or functions contemplated. 

When viewed as making us recipients of impressions, 
they are called susceptibilities / from the Latin suscipio, 
to receive. When regarded as rendering us propense, or 
inclined to certain actions, they are called propensities ; 
from the JjSituli propendo, to incline. 



THE NATUKAL MOTIVE POWERS. 23 

When considered as urgently inciting us to act, thej 
are termed impulses / from the latin imjpello^ to impel. 

In their more common states, they are simply termed 
motives / from the Latin onoveo^ to move. 

Considered in the mere relation of moving powers 
analogous to those of nature, they are called the mind's 
dynamics / from the Greek hvvajjuL';^ power. 

Yiewed in all their relations, both to the individual 
himself and to others, as the centre and source of good 
and evil, they are in the Bible termed the heart / * a word 
of Saxon origin and familiar to all. 

For the sake of convenience and for the want of a bet- 
ter term, we designate all this class of faculties by the 
general name Motive Powers. We are obliged to borrow 
terms from nature ; but it must be clearly understood that 
we are not passively moved by these powers, as effects 
are produced by causes in nature. The mental dynamics 
are not of this kind. It is the man that wills, moves, 
acts ; these powers do not of themselves will him, move 
him, act him. They are merely the subjective motives, 
with regard to which he acts. Thus when we say that a 
man's desire of office moves him to seek it, we only mean 
that it is from a regard to this desire that he moves to 
seek the office, l^ot any or all of his motives, but the 
man himself, desiring, willing, acting, is the efficient and 
responsible agent. The motive is the man's and not the 
man the motive's. 

THE MOTIVE POWERS OF TWO KINDS, 

Our motive powers, like the intellective, are of two 
kinds, those which the brute creation share with us, in 
some humble degree, and those which are possessed exclu- 

* See Matt. 15 : 9. 



24: MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

sively by accountable beings. The former are Appetite, 
Affection, Desire, Emotion, Yolition. These we denomi- 
nate the natural motive powers. 

The latter are Conscience, Taste, Rational "Will. We 
here distinguish will from mere brute volition, hrutum 
a/rbitrium / the former being in the service of reason and 
therefore rational, while the latter is controlled by mere 
instinct. These we denominate the rational motive 
powers. 

GENERAL TJSE OF THE MOTIVE POWERS. 

"We can imagine a being possessing all of the intellec- 
tive without any of the motive powers : although we have 
no belief that such a being ever existed. Such a being 
would be incapable of moral and religious character, and 
even of affections or emotions of any kind. Possessing 
only cold and dry intellect, he would resemble the ice- 
ribbed regions of the poles, glittering with moonbeams 
but frozen and cheerless. 

We are therefore indebted to the faculties which we 
are now to examine for all that makes creation to us beau- 
tiful, grand, charming ; for all that renders the bounties 
of Providence desirable ; for all that sustains the toils and 
relieves the burdens of life ; for all that is precious in the 
tender sympathies and warm charities of society; and 
most of all, for the distinguishing honor of sustaining 
moral and religious character, and the exalted and ever- 
lasting happiness of loving God. Such is the importance 
of those faculties, which we now propose to examine. 

WHICH CLASS OF FAOrLTIES ACT FIRST. 

The intellective and the motive powers are intimately 
united and mutually dependent. Other things equal, the 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 555 

more earnest our affections, desires, emotions, the more 
vivid are our perceptions ; and, on the other hand, the 
clearer our perceptions, the more intense are our feehngs. 
But it has been debated which act first, the intellective or 
the motive powers. Dugald Stewart thinks the latter. 
"Our active propensities," he says, "are the motives 
which induce us to exert our intellectual powers, and 
our intellectual powers are the instruments by which we 
attain the ends recommended to us by our active propen- 
sities." 

This is true, but not the whole truth. In all cases 
of sensational activity, that is, of mental action through 
the senses, the motive powers act first. In all other cases, 
the intellective powers act first. For instance, appetite 
may excite desire, which puts thought at work to gratify 
it. In this case a motive power takes the lead. On the 
other hand, the intuitive perception of a truth or false- 
hood may excite a corresponding emotion. In this case 
the intellect is first to act. 

Thus an act of the intellect is often the means of excit- 
ing propensities, which subsequently re-act through the 
instrumentality of the intellect to obtain their ends. But 
it is not the same intellectual faculty, which is employed in 
these two cases. In the first instaace, it is the power of in- 
tuition / in the second, the power of contriving^ or adapt- 
ing means to ends. This last is a combination of primitive 
faculties. We are hence morally bound to take heed how 
we employ the intellect, not only as an instrument to se- 
cure ends already desired but as a means of exciting the 
desires themselves. This is true of other powers besides 
that of intuition, and especially of imagination. 

The direct object of intellectual activity is knowledge. 
Knowledge excites the motive powers, and these incite us 
to action. The object of that kind of intellectual activity 
2 



26 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

called imagining, is a substitute for knowledge. That is, 
it substitutes a fancied object for a reality. It is therefore 
adapted, like knowledge, to move tbe feelings; and is 
often even more effectual to excite desires and emotions 
tlian reality itself. Hence tbe person wbo would keep his 
heart pure must have special care of his imagination. 

THE ACTION OF THE MOTIVE POWEES NATUKAL OR MOEAL. 

Having distinguished the motive from the intellec 
tive powers, we are next to discriminate between those 
acts or states of the motive powers which are purely 
natural, and those which involve moral quality. But 
we must first define what we mean by natural and by 
moral action. 

By natural action, we do not mean that the action 
itself is not beautiful, amiable, desirable, nor that it does 
not imply wise design and moral excellence in the respon- 
sible author of it. It does imply these in the highest degree. 
We see them in the instincts of the bee, and of all animals. 
We see them also in those human instincts, those purely 
constitutional activities of our nature, which are directly 
due to the creating and guiding power of God. When 
we say they are natural,- characterless, &c., we only mean 
that they imply no moral worthiness in the man, any more 
than the amiable instincts of the animal imply moral wor- 
thiness in the animal. The man's conscience, his regard 
to duty, does not enter into them at all, any more than it 
does into the beatings of his X3ulse. 

By moral action, we mean that for which the man 
himself, as a moral agent, is personally responsible. It is 
action which, if by him conscientiously conformed to the 
rule of right, attaches to him character of moral excellence ; 
but if otherwise, it attaches to him guilt. Every specific 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 27 

moral state or action is thus right or wrong, the responsi- 
ble author of it being the agent himself. 

When our affections, desires, emotions, volitions, are 
simple spontaneous outbursts, such as mere nature designs 
and prompts, they are as characterless as nature herself. 
They are sometimes called human instincts. They incite 
us to preserve and defend our lives, to foster and protect 
our offspring, to relieve misery, to provide for our natural 
wants. To do otherwise is i^^natural. When the person 
keeps them in obedience to enlightened conscience, having 
thus faithful regard to duty, they are morally right. When 
he allows them to violate the laws of conscience, they are 
morally wrong. They are then wrong as being wrongly 
motived, indulged to excess, or directed to unworthy and 
forbidden objects. 

Applying the above rule, we find a large class of hu- 
mane, lovely, beautiful, feelings and actions, on which we 
are prone to pride ourselves, which are the pure gifts 
of God in nature, as truly so as the instincts of the mere 
animal. They evince a fine nature as made and endued 
by God, but attach no more moral worthiness to the re- 
sponsible man than does the color of his skin. They are 
strictly God's creative work, acting itself out, so to speak, 
in the nature which he has given. 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE ABOVE DISTINCTIONS. 

The mere constitutional desire of esteem has no moral 
quality. It is as natural and useful to the mind as breath- 
ing is to the body ; the one implies no more moral charac- 
ter than the other. But when this desire is directed to 
unworthy ends, or is excessively earnest for human ap-* 
plause, it subverts right principle and is morally wrong. 

The constitutional desire oi].^ower is in itself innocent, 



28 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

and subserves important nses. Bnt let it be wi'onglj 
directed, or become a ruling passion, overriding justice 
and benevolence, and it is bigblj criminal. It is the main 
motive of demagogues and tyrants. 

Let us now reverse these cases. The desire of esteem, 
rightly directed, exerts a most elevating and ennobling 
influence upon the character. When supremely directed 
to the Supreme Being, it becomes one of the loftiest ele- 
ments of virtue and piety. 'None have a brighter record 
on high, than they who " seek the honor that cometh from 
God only." 

The desire of power, often so di-eadful when perverted, 
when wisely directed to benevolent ends, imparts strength 
and greatness to character, and often renders its subjects 
illustrious benefactors of mankind. To desire power and 
influence for the sake of being largely beneficial, and to 
retain the purity of the desire and the sincerity of the 
motive unto the end, through a life of distinguished pub- 
lic success, is to form a character like that of the illustrious 
"Washington. 

The natural affections are not only innocent, but they 
are so essential to us that without them man is a monster. 
The mother's love for her infant child, is an origuial and 
pure instinct. Rightly controlled, it becomes one of the 
most beautiful elements of character. "What more pleasing 
than the sight of the affectionate mother, watching with 
solicitous and untiring devotion over her helpless child ? 
"Who can contemplate her self-forgetting in devotion to 
the object of her love, enduring his waywardness, forgiv- 
ing his faults, relieving his pains, enjoying his pleasures ; 
pouring incessantly into his opening soul the warm cur- 
rent of her sympathies and the matm-e wisdom of her 
counsels, and following him with her untiring prayers, as 
he advances from childhood, and finally goes forth to bat- 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. ji\) 

tie with the temptations and trials of life, without feeling 
that the true mother's heart is the noblest of heaven's 
gifts ? 

But let that affection become by excess an idolatrous 
fondness ; let it induce her to look not only with endurance 
but with complacence upon her child's faults ; let it so con- 
tract her heart that it shall retain no adequate affection 
for any child but her own ; let it be allowed to supplant the 
higher affection due to God, and thus induce her to mur- 
mur against him, if he removes the idol ; it then becomes 
morally wrong. Allowed to reign in the heart, it will 
ultimately displace all its finest sensibilities and subvert 
every principle of morality and religion. Every natural 
affection, however lovely and important, when allowed to 
become idolatrous, selfish, exclusive, tends to the same 
disastrous result. 

Hence Jesus Christ said, "He that loveth father or 
mother more than me, is not worthy of me, and he that 
loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of 
me." 

ITow let that mother, instead of giving her supreme 
affection to her child, give it to God. Chastened, rever- 
ent, devout, modified to the nature of its object, let it 
ascend in holy devotion to Him who alone has the right 
to claim it, and to whom alone she has a right to give it. 
Her parental affection thus falls into its appropriate sphere 
and assumes the right character. She does not love her 
child the less, because she loves God more than him, but 
her maternal love is now a morally regulated and Christian 
affection. 

This is not an affection which looks complacently upon 
and defends her child's faults. Although sincere and 
ardent, it is still discriminating, l^either is it an affec- 
tion that closes the fountain of her heart against others. 



30 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

On the contrary, it opens and enlarges it for all the human 
race, l^or yet does it resist the will of God, conflict with 
his laws and proyidence, and obstinately insist npon its 
own ends. Cheerfully recognizing that higher claim, 
resigned even in the removal of its dearest earthly object, 
it says, " The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away, 
and blessed be the name of the Lord." This is trne moral 
excellence ; it is sublimely beautiful. 

What we have said of the desires and affections, is 
equally true of all the primitive motive powers. Charac- 
terless in themselves, they are morally right or wrong, 
according as they are kept in obedience to the law of 
moral rectitude, or are allowed to transgress it. Hence 
a man may be, to a great extent, naturally amiable and 
lovely, while he is morally perverse and wicked. He 
may have fine natural endowments of soul as well as of 
body, rich impulses, genial feelings, glowing and humane 
affections, and yet live without God in the world. He 
may be a practical atheist. But if the will of God is our 
supreme law of moral right, as we shall hereafter show it 
to be ; if we ought supremely to regard his pleasure, and 
to devote all our powers to his service ; then, the man 
who withholds this homage from God, however fine his 
natural endowments, is wrong in the capital respect, the 
very respect in which he is personally and most of all 
responsible. He does not do as he ought to do, even in 
the highest and most important relation of his being. 
The duty that comprehends all other duties he ignores 
and disowns. He is thus, as an accountable being, radi- 
cally and utterly in fault. 

An additional fact must here be introduced, as an 
element essential to every philosophical system true to 
humanity, which is, that man is a morally fallen being, 
disinclined to do the will of God. Thus morally perverse 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWEKS. 31 

and guilty, he is dependent upon a dispensation of grace. 
A true and complete system of moral philosophy must 
therefore show both what man is, and what, through the 
grace of the gospel, he may and should become. The 
principles of morality are thus both natural and revealed. 



CHAPTEK II. 



NATURAL APPETITE, 



The appetites are those propensities of our nature whose 
object is to supply our bodily wastes and to perpetuate 
our race. Of these we have two, adapted severally to 
each of the above ends. One of them is active from 
infancy ; the other is developed later in life. Both are, 
h(^ever, alike provided for in the original constitution. 

Some authors reckon three appetites, considering the 
appetite of thirst distinct from that of hunger. This 
results from their confounding appetite with the desires to 
which it gives rise, when excited. The propensity to sup- 
ply the bodily wastes perpetually exists in the constitution 
as a part of it, while the desires which it occasions do not 
perpetually exist ; their existence depending upon the par- 
ticular bodily and mental states. In certain states of the 
body, the propensity to supply its wants occasions desire 
for liquid, in other states for solid substance. The par- 
ticular desires of appetite are numerous, but the propen- 
sity to supply the wants, whatever they may be, is ever 
one and the same. 

The above distinction between appetite and desire is 



THE NATUKAL MOTIVE POWERS. 33 

important. Appetite itself is natural and innocent, bnt 
the desires to wMcIl it gives rise may be virtuous or 
vicious, according as we direct them to lawful or unlawful 
indulgences. This remark is equally applicable to both 
of the natural appetites, and to their desires. 

THE APPETITES NECESSAiJY. 

It might seem that reason and experience are sufficient 
to direct us to the means necessary for the preservation of 
our lives and the perpetuity of our race, and that conse- 
quently the appetites are superfluous. Why then are 
they implanted in our nature, since they so often enslave 
and torment us ? Is it nof unworthy of rational beings to 
be actuated by such inferior principles ? We despise the 
man who is controlled by his appetites ; why then were 
they not left entirely out of his constitution, that all his 
actions might be directed by the loftier dictates of reason 
and conscience ? Some light may be thrown upon this 
question by the following considerations, 

THE APPETITES ARE PROMPTERS. 

Without the promptings of appetite, the vigilance of 
the rational powers and the lessons of experience would 
often fail to remind us of the means necessary to the im- 
portant ends which they contemplate. When intensely 
occupied, for instance, or absorbed in some favorite ob- 
ject, or when in circumstances unfavorable for procuring 
the means of subsistence, without the urgent promptings 
of appetite, men would often perish for want of nourish- 
ment. The appetites, therefore, in their natural and 
healthy condition, are invaluable monitors. Without 
them, despite of their rational powers, the human race 
would have long since ceased from the earth. 
2* 



34 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



FURTHER USE OF THE APPETITES. 

Controlled by virtuous principle, the appetites not only 
admonisL. us when to indulge, but they serve to regulate 
the indulgence. They indicate the quantity, as well as 
the time. Indeed, the instinct of healthy appetite sub- 
serves much the same purpose for supplying the system 
with nourishment, which that of breathing does for sup- 
plying the lungs with air. They do not supersede the 
necessity of rational and moral control, but they greatly 
relieve it. " Suppose, for example, that the appetite of 
hunger had been no part of our constitution ; reason and 
experience might have satisfied us of the necessity of food 
to our preservation ; but how should we have been able, 
without an implanted principle, to ascertain, according to 
the varying state of our animal economy, the proper 
reasons for eating, or the quantity of food that is salutary 
to the body?"* 

# 

THE APPETITES CONTRIBUTE TO ENJOYMENT. 

But the appetites have a higher end than mere physi- 
cal necessity. They were designed to promote our hap- 
piness. Indeed our enjoyment is provided for in all 
providential arrangements ; and is never sacrificed but 
by some misdoing of ours, or for purposes of moral disci- 
pline having a higher good in prospect. 

Without appetite, even the taking of our needful food 
would be a matter of sober and grudging necessity. The 
plain substantial luxury, so welcome to the laborer when 
returning from the toils of the day, the savory viands and 
delicious fruits upon the rich man's table, even the crys- 

* Stewart, p. 10. 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 35 

tal water that sparkles so temptingly in the temperate 
man's cup, would all cease alike to have any attraction, 
or to aflbrd any pleasure. We should eat and drink by 
rule, and from mere motives of necessity. What a cold, 
mercenary, calculating business, would eating and drink- 
ing be ! It would not be easy to calculate the amount of 
enjoyment, individual, domestic, social, which would be 
taken from the world, by the annihilation of the appetites. 

MORAL AND RELIGIOUS USES OF THE APPETITES. 

The appetites serve to discipline us. If they tempt us to 
vice, they also afford us opportunity to test and strengthen 
virtuous principle. " Blessed is the man that endureth 
temptation ; for when he is tried he shall receive a crown 
of life." It is not he who has nothing in his nature or 
circumstances to try his virtue, but he only who is capa- 
ble of being tempted and who overcomes the temptation, 
that is worthy to inherit the promised crown. It seems to 
have been by appetite, unlawfully indulged, that our pro- 
genitors y^Z^ from innocence. An opportunity is afforded, 
by rightly controlling this and other propensities, to rise 
from the servile bondage of the flesh to regained dominion 
more glorious than was lost. 

The appetites also serve to awaken our gratitude to 
God, for his constant care and numerous gifts. They 
occasion wants in our nature, produced by the same gra- 
cious Being who provides for them; the necessity and 
the^pro vision for it being always so adjusted to each other 
as to yield us repeated enjoyment, make us feel our de- 
pendence, and thus awaken our gratitude. " Give us this 
day our daily bread," is a prayer suggested by the de- 
mands of appetite ; and every answer to it is a fresh 
appeal to the grateful homage of the heart. 



36 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Whenever tlie deYout man sits down to his repast, the 
blessing of a healthy appetite brought into connection 
with the means of supplying its demands, naturally lifts 
his soul to God ; and, in imitation of the Saviour's exam- 
ple, he offers to him his tribute of thanks. Thus appetite, 
rightly used, becomes an important means of rendering 
the heart grateful and devout. The true Christian '' eats 
and drinks to the glory of God." * 

ERRORS RESPECTINa APPETITE. 

There are two opposite errors, to which men incline, 
respecting the appetites ; that of undue denial, and j;hat 
of undue indulgence. The former is undoubtedly the 
safer ; but we should avoid the errors on both sides. 

Undue Denial. — Observing the evils of undue indul- 
gence, some have concluded that the hand of an iron 
mastery should be laid upon the appetites ; that they 
should be reduced to the lowest possible extremity ; that 
all the happiness they proffer should be eschewed ; and 
that the very essence of virtue consists in a state of entire 
indifference to their demands. 

This is Asceticism. It is of heathen origin. Its views 
of morality and religion are severe and unnatural. It 
entirely mistakes the Creator's design ; or, if it sees it in 
part, does not apprehend its entireness, beauty, and benefi- 
cence. Applied to religion and guiding the conscience, 
it has led to deeds of cruel penance, to macerations of the 
body, to celibacy, and even to the entire destruction of 
faculties implanted in our nature for the most important 
ends. Such is the wisdom of heathenism, or of man in the 
absence of Christianity, when attempting to regulate the 

* 1 Cor. 10 : 31. 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 37 

appetites. And even Christians themselves, like some of 
the Jews in the time of Christ, have not always kept 
their morality and religious devotion entirely free of the 
ascetic element. 

Undue Inbulgence. — ^This is the more dangerous error. 
Perceiving that the appetites were evidently designed to 
contribute to our enjoyment, and not considering the im- 
portance of keeping them in due subjection, many allow 
them to gain the mastery. Men thus become abject slaves 
to them. They are what the Scriptures denominate " lovers 
of pleasures." The pleasures of sense, no longer subordi- 
nate and incidental, become to them the supreme and 
ultimate object. They tease and stimulate the appetites 
to the highest pitch of excitement, and then give to them 
the reins of free indulgence. 

This is Ejpicurianism. It is so called from a noted 
heathen philosoj)her, who was reputed to teach, what he 
never did teach in so gross a sense, that pleasure is the 
chief end of man, I^ot only morality and religion, but 
even the decencies of social and domestic life are by it 
sometimes sacrificed to a mad devotion to " the lusts of 
the flesh." It defeats its own end. Its race is short ; it 
usually has more of pain than of substantial pleasure, even 
while it lasts ; and it terminates in hopeless ruin. 

But while the theoretical error may draw many into 
the bondage of appetite, it is not true that all who come 
into this bondage theoretically embrace the error. Men 
become the slaves of lust by errors of practice more than 
by errors of speculation. So dominant do unduly indulged 
appetites often become, that their unhappy slaves groan 
under the bondage while freely admitting the claims of 
virtue, and even eloquent in its praise. The most lucid 
arguments and touching appeals in favor of temperance 
and chastity, have fallen from the lips of intemperate 



38 MORAI. PHILOSOPHY. 

and licentioTis men. In the bitterness of his spirit, the 
wretched victim of Inst is often constrained to saj, 

" I know tlie right, and I approve it too, 
Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue." 



RELATION OF APPETITE TO PLEASURE. 

Pleasure is an object, bnt not the chief and ultimate 
object, for which the appetites were given ns. The ques- 
tion here arises whether it is right to indulge the appetites 
merely for the pleasure thus obtained. In answer to this, it is 
evident that he acts an irrational part, and therefore mor- 
ally wrong, who allows present indulgence at the expense 
of greater enjoyment in the future. He who eagerly 
snatches a few transient pleasures, at the loss of great and 
permanent future good, acts a brutish part, and thus 
offends against the high dictates of wisdom and morality. 
A rational being is bound to act as such ; and rationality 
enjoins forethought. 

There is not so much as an apology for this impatience 
to indulge, even with those who regard happiness as the 
end ; for Providence has so ordered events that the vir- 
tuous control of appetite secures the highest present satis- 
faction, as well as future reward. Hence all vicious indul- 
gence is as truly a mistake, as an immorality ; it is as 
unwise, as it is wrong. If the present year, or even the 
present month, were the whole of a man's existence, the 
balance of enjoyment would still be on the side of vir- 
tue. 

But the mere question of enjoyment is not the main 
one here. Morality takes a higher view. While virtue 
bestows present as well as future happiness, it must be 
conceded that she demands self-denial; and sometimes 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 6\) 

self-denial very severe and protracted. And when the 
question lies between indulgence and virtue, between 
pleasure and morality, the decision in favor of the latter 
does not admit of a question, even though it be at the 
sacrifice of a right eye. 

There are two kinds of pleasure, which here conflict : 
that of indulged appetite, and that of obeyed conscience ; 
and however great the former, that of the latter is sure to 
be greater. And so also there are two kinds of conflicting 
pain ; and however great the pain of denying appetite, 
that of disobeying conscience will surely transcend it. 
And to this we must add, that even if we take no higher 
ground than respect to mere physical enjoyment, the loss 
of it from vices of appetite is ordinarily, within no dis- 
tant period, more than an offset to the pleasure. These 
reasons are conclusive, why the appetites should never be 
used as means of pleasure, excepting as they are con- 
trolled by strict and unbending virtue. But when indul- 
gence and virtue clearly coincide, self-denial ceases to be 
either virtuous or wise. 

ILLUSTRATION OF THE ABOVE. 

If we have the choice of two kinds of food equally at 
our command and conducive to health, the only difference 
being that our appetite craves the one rather than the 
other, our appetite is then the only providential indication 
to guide us. Indeed, what a healthy appetite best relishes, 
is usually best for us. ITor can one person decide here 
for another ; for as Providence has afforded a variety of 
provisions, so he has constituted various appetites with 
reference to them. 

Moreover, the appetites were clearly designed to be 
indulged, subject to the laws of strict virtue, with direct 
reference to the satisfaction which they afford. They 



40 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

were designed, as we haye said, to minister to our enjoy- 
ment ; and happiness is both a good in itself, and a means 
to permanent moral benefit. It is not less essential than 
suffering, as an element of moral discipline; and God 
has dispensed his bounties with reference to this law of 
our nature. "We are so constituted, that the absence of 
all pleasure on the one hand, as well as the absence of 
all pain on the other, would be fatal to our moral disci- 
pline. 

DESIGN OF PEOVEDENTIAL GIFTS. 

Why has the Creator spread such a world of beauty 
around us, in the varied and beautiful landscape ; in the 
rich hues of the opening flowers and the richer tints of the 
ripening fruits ; in the gorgeous splendors of the western 
sky, when the sun is sinking to rest beneath a canopy of 
sapphire and of gold ; in all the forms of grace and gran- 
deur, which open to our view in ceaseless variety, by day 
and by night; but to afford us enjoyment through the 
sense of sight, and thereby raise our hearts to him in 
grateful homage ? And why has he filled the air with 
music, and provided for our producing it by artificial 
means, adapting the laws of melody and harmony to our 
enjoyment through the sense of hearing? 

And are not his provisions and designs the same, in 
respect to the sense of appetite ? There is but one answer. 
K there is no merit in shutting our eyes against the gifts 
addressed to the sense of sight, or our ears against the gifts 
addressed to the sense of hearing, there can be none in 
rejecting the gifts addressed to the sense of appetite. All 
of the senses sustain to us the same relation ; they are all 
equally designed to afford us enjoyment ; and they are all 
to be governed by the same rules of virtue. 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWEES. 41 



SELF-DENIAL FOE BENEVOLENT ENDS. 

When benevolence induces a person to forego gratifi- 
cations of appetite for the sake of doing good to his fellow- 
beings, the virtue of self-denial rests npon higher ground 
than that of mere secular morality. "When a man denies 
himself luxuries, or in any way restricts personal indul- 
gences, for the sake of saving the cost of them to supply 
the wants of the destitute, or to afford relief to the suffer- 
ing, or to send the Gospel to the heathen, he adopts the 
Christian principle. 

"Nov does he herein act the ascetic, aspiring to be 
righteous overmuch; for he would gratefully enjoy the 
luxury and bestow the favor too, if he could ; but seeing 
he cannot do both, his benevolent heart prompts him nobly 
to relinquish personal gratification, for the sake of afford- 
ing greater and more important good to others. This is 
the self-sacrificing spirit of Christianity. 

THE BEST MEANS OF GOVERNING THE APPETITES. 

It is not the highest order of morality, that does little 
else than maintain severe and scrupulous exactness in 
regard to the appetites. N"ot that they should ever be 
ungoverned, or ever allowed to transgress in the least par- 
ticular ; but to be ever inquiring to what extent they may 
be indulged, and how they may be kept in due subjection, 
tends to debase the mind, and to displace nobler motives 
of action. 

Indeed such a course sometimes tends, by a natural 
law, to render the appetites more ungovernable. "When 
the conscience is duly enlightened, and the aspirations of 
the soul are pure and elevated, the lower propensities 
naturally fall into their proper place. Hence the best pf 



42 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

all directions for goYerning the appetites, is, to have some 
worthy and absorbing object in view, and to be diligently 
engaged in pnrsning it. 

The truly noble man governs his appetites almost un- 
consciously. Like dutiful children, they render him cheer- 
ful obedience. Kot clamorous for their rights, they never 
set up. the standard of rebellion. Rightly trained from in- 
fancy, submission has become their habit. As they never 
solicit undue indulgence, it is never needful to lay upon 
them any painful restraint. To " keep under the body 
and bring it into subjection," is no arduous task. 

Such a man lives, not by a rule of mechanical exact- 
ness, or of pedantic and self-conscious accuracy, but by 
the lofty impulse of a divine heroism. High aims and 
high endeavors, conscientiously pursued, place him above 
the reach of temptations addressed to his lower propensi- 
ties. Such is the high-souled man. But he whose moral 
history is made up of attempts nicely to define the exact 
limit of virtuous indulgence and to keep precisely within 
it, lives at a mean rate, and can never in this way reach 
a point of excellence worth naming. 



CHAPTER in. 

MORBID APPETITES. 

Two causes operate to impart morbid or diseased action 
to the appetites. In the first place, the orgcms of the sense 
of appetite may be in a diseased or abnormal condition. 
"When the organs of the sense of sight are diseased, its vi- 
sion is unnatural ; so when the organs of the sense of wp- 
petite are diseased, its cramngs are unnatural. 

In the second place, appetite may be disordered by 
excessive and rejpeated indulgence^ by which a bad habit is 
formed. There are then both the disease of the organ 
and the power of the evil habit to be overcome, before 
healthy appetite can be restored. Tlie influence of the 
two is reciprocal ; repetition increases the disease, and the 
disease instigates repetition. 

Dugald Stewart calls them acquired appetites. '' Be- 
sides our natural appetites," he says, " we have many ac- 
quired ones. Such are our appetites for tobacco, for 
opium, and other intoxicating drugs. In general, every 
thing that stimulates the nervous system produces a sub- 
sequent languor, which gives rise to a repetition." * He 

' * Active and Moral Powers, p. 12. 



44: MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

here confounds appetite itself with the cravings to which 
it gives rise. When the appetite, designed to suggest 
the appropriate nourishing stimulant, becomes perverted 
or morbid, it produces unnatural cravings for hurtful 
stimulants, such as alcohol, opium, tobacco, and highly 
seasoned dishes. 

APPETITE DISEASED BY NATURE. 

It may be a question how far appetite is ever origi- 
nally diseased. It seems to be a law of nature, that the 
peculiarities of parents, both physical and mental, descend 
in some measure to their posterity. This law extends to 
diseases. The morbid states as well as the constitutional 
peculiarities of parents, become to some extent the inheri- 
tance of their children. The vices of sensuality and their 
sad effects, are propagated by blood scarcely less than by 
example. This appears to be one of the ways in which 
God " visits the iniquities of the fathers upon their children, 
unto the third and fourth generation." This fact should 
be an effectual inducement to all who would not entail 
calamities upon their offspring, to avoid every kind of 
vicious indulgence. 

APPETITE DISEASED IN INFANCY. 

"While vitiosity of appetite may be to some extent in- 
herited, it is doubtless more due to the nursing and the 
habits of infancy. The seeds of intemperance may be im- 
planted in children long before they arrive at years of dis- 
cretion. Intoxicating drinks taken by the mother and 
retaken by the infant at the breast, cordials administered 
as a beverage or an anodyne, may implant the germs of 
morbid appetite, which future years will serve only to 
mature. Appetite thus depraved operates through the 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 4:5 

subsequent periods of childhood, producing various crav- 
ings for injurious indulgences, which nothing but the 
most determined self-denial can resist ; and which, alas, 
are too often allowed to destroy their victims. 

There is then a serious responsibility upon all who 
have infancy and childhood in charge, to practise great 
caution in forming the appetite. 'No propensity of our 
nature is more easily affected at an early age, for good or 
for evil, than this. Physicians have mostly ceased to en- 
courage nursing mothers to take intoxicating drinks, and 
to countenance the frequent administering of drugs and 
cordials to children. Pure air, simple diet, invigorating 
exercise, and cheerful society, are the natural means of 
fostering healthy appetite. 

APPETITE VITIATED IN YOUTH. 

"Whatever may be the depravity of appetite obtained 
by inheritance, or in the period of infancy, it cannot an- 
nul the subsequent obligation of the individual to control 
it. If a youth finds himself the unhappy victim of morbid 
appetites, urging him to vicious indulgences, he should 
put in requisition the greater self-denial and the more de- 
termined efforts to be virtuous. He should take counsel 
of reason, not of appetite ; he should listen to the voice of 
God and of conscience, cautiously shun temptations, and 
address himself with unflinching determination to his 
duty. And for encouragement he should consider that 
the greater the struggle, the more glorious the victory, 
and the richer the reward. 

The appetites are not often so depraved at birth, or in 
infancy, as to render it very difficult for a virtuous will to 
control them. The severest trials which men realize from 
them, are of their own procuring. It is during the period 



46 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

of youth, between the ages of ten and twenty-five, when 
passion is ardent, reason immature, and habit in the pro- 
cess of formation, that persons are most liable to render 
their desire for pleasure strong by indulgence, and thus to 
fall victims to its demands. Since many descend to ruin 
in this way, it may not be amiss, for a warning to the 
young, to indicate the leading steps in the process. 

1. Inordinate desire fm' present pleasure. — Since in- 
dulgence affords present enjoyment, it makes the youth of 
strong desires and little forethought its easy victim. He 
has as yet tasted only the sweet, none of the bitterness, of 
vice. Hence, regardless of the counsels of parents and 
teachers, of the commands of God, and of the admonitions 
of conscience, he gives himself up to pleasure. At length 
the abused appetites, as if in retaliation for this unlawful 
use of them, assume the reins and hurry their victim into 
still bolder and more desperate steps towards ruin. 

2. The injhience of had example. — Having entered 
upon this course, he finds companions to keep him in coun- 
tenance, and help him- along in it. Associated with those 
more advanced than himself in vice, he finds his progress 
greatly facilitated. The tendency to imitate is perhaps 
never stronger with those who have deviated from the path 
of virtue, than when vicious indulgence is the object. 

Indeed the mutual influence of j)leasure-seeking com- 
panions in confirming each other's vices, is almost irre- 
sistible. " The companion of fools shall he destroyed?^ 
The only possible hope for one thus ensnared, is in the 
dissolution of the companionship ; an event which he is 
usually slow to desire. 

3. False association of ideas. ^ — ^The youth supposed is 
yet more encouraged in his course, by associating indul- 
gence with high life and independence. He knows sons 
of rich and distinguished parents, moving with honor in 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWEES. 47 

fashionable circles, who practise nnblnshingly the vices to 
which he is inclined. 'Not regarding true excellence 
as independent of external condition not having learned 
to associate virtue with honor, and vice with disgrace, 
under all circumstances ; the free indulgence of appetite 
becomes with him a matter of amhition, as well as of 
pleasure. 

He scorns to be numbered with the stupid slaves of 
superstition, or with the humble poor who cannot afford 
to indulge ; he aspires to freedom, and to an honorable 
rank. Thus becoming one of those '' who glory in their 
shame," his pride and appetite unite their forces to destroy 
him. 

4. A vicious imagination. — His imagination having 
become perversely active, fills his mind with corrupting 
images. It vividly mirrors to him " the wine when it is 
red, when it giveth its color in the cup, when it moveth 
itself aright," and the numerous accompanying objects 
which minister to depraved appetites. Objects, thus fur- 
nished by the imagination, have frequently as much power 
to excite the cravings of appetite, as those actually present. 
In some cases they have even more. Thus one of the 
finest of the mental faculties, given to elevate and enrich 
the soul, becomes by perversion a fatal instrument for its 
destruction. 

5. Utter recklessness of the future. — ^The frenzied ap- 
petites at length render their victim desperate. There 
is now scarcely a risk which he will not encounter, nor ter- 
ror which he will not brave, for the sake of their indulgence. 
His ruin has thus approached the point of completion. 
His remaining days upon earth will probably be few ; but 
whether few or many, they will never be to him again as 
they have been. 

That glorious sun will never again shine upon his head 



48 MORAIi PHILOSOPHY. 

with golden "beams, as in the days of his innocence and 
hope ; the sweet mnsic of nature, that once came to his 
bounding and joyous spirit like angel- voices, is turned into 
the deep and hollow wail of a ruined life ; all creation, 
once green, bright, and charming, looks faded, withered, 
repulsive ; and often, under a painful conviction of his 
ruin and the pangs of remorse, he almost sighs for the 
dreaded grave to bmy him for ever from the world and 
from himself. If in Paris, his presence in a den of gam- 
blers may be suddenly missed, and the morning may find 
his remains at the foot of the Triumphal Arch, or floating 
in the Seine. 

6. The dosing scene. — ^But if he lives in America, and 
has received Christian instruction, he will not probably ter- 
minate his days by suicide. A lingering probation of mis- 
ery awaits him. The appetites which once afforded him 
pleasure, now exhausted of their resources, refuse to do so 
any longer ; and he is thus left both to the painful chidings 
of conscience, and to the cruel mercy of those long-cher- 
ished and remorseless cravings, that can never be satisfied. 

ITothing short of one of those rare miracles of mercy, 
which Heaven in the stupendous reaches of its grace some- 
times deigns, can avail to rescue him, and to turn him, 
through agonies of repentance and of struggle, into the long 
forsaken paths of virtue. Few indeed, in this stage of 
vice, are ever reclaimed. JSfearly all die as they have 
lived, leaving the hearts of surviving friends to weep bit- 
ter tears, and the loving breezes of heaven vainly to sigh 
over their dishonored graves. 

THE EEVEESE OF THE AEOVE PEOOESS. 

Every youth, however morbid his early or acquired 
appetites, may, by commencing early, entirely reverse the 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 49 

above process. His moral salvation is yet, under God, in 
his own keeping. He may become a virtuous, high-mind- 
ed, and happy man, reigning as a king over all his house. 
But in order to this, he must enter at once upon a per- 
sistent conflict. He must adopt and firmly maintain the 
rule of him who said, " Iheep under my hody and 'bring it 
into subjection^ He must now, henceforth, and for ever, 
count all pleasures valueless, which are obtained at the 
expense of virtue. 

He must disconnect all vicious indulgences from the 
fascinations and allurements with which they are too 
often connected. He must never associate them with 
respectability and greatness, however arrayed with splen- 
dor, or commended by wealth and fashion ; he must 
practically esteem them as mean and disgraceful as they 
are morally wrong and wicked. The principle of self- 
respect will thus arm him against them. 

He must check the wanderings of imagination, guide 
but not cool its burning energies, and bid it rise to objects 
pure and ennobling. Whether it be a novel, a picture, 
a song, a theatrical exhibition, or even a fact of history 
or personal knowledge, that would defile his thoughts, and 
excite vicious cravings of appetite, he must turn away 
from it, and for ever shun it, as he would a pestilence that 
walketh in darkness. 

He must also shun all bad company. Until his vicious 
habits have become thoroughly subdued, and virtuous 
habits firmly established, vicious companions will present 
temptations formidable for him to withstand. He must, 
therefore, resolutely cut himself entirely off from all " fel- 
lowship with the unfruitful works of darkness," from all 
communion with those who are pursuing " the lusts of 
the flesh," and throw himself heartily into the society and 
sympathies of the strictly virtuous. " He that walketh 
3 



50 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

with wise men shall be wise, but the companion of fools 
shall be destroyed." 

But he must not think to govern his appetites by mak- 
ing war on nature, acting the ascetic, and denying himself 
winocent amusements and wholesome pleasures. There 
are such, and all youth must have them. If- they do not, 
restrained nature will react, will demand her rights ; and, 
if she cannot have them in one form, she will have them 
in another. If she is denied them in innocence, she will 
have them in guilt 

Let the youth supposed, then, cultivate and indulge 
the pleasures of his higher nature. Let him add to his 
diligence in business the cultui-e of literature, of taste, of 
poetry, of music, of refined social recreations and amuse- 
ments ; let him feast his imagination and elevate his de- 
sires, by communing with the beauties of nature and the 
triumphs of art. Thus, taking hold upon the higher plea- 
sures of his rational soul, he will naturally leave the in- 
ferior pleasures of appetite to fall into their appropriate 
place of subordination. 

Above all, conscious of his weakness and guilt,- he must 
throw himself upon the strength and grace of God ; and 
he must set an infinite value upon those virtuous princi- 
ples and high endeavors, which, superior to present indul- 
gence, and patient of all needful self-denial, can afford to 
wait long and toil hard, in expectation of glorious reward 
in the future. Persisting in this course, an approving 
conscience will sustain him ; he will teach his appetites 
obedience ; he will feel the delightful assurance that he 
is gaining the victory and rising in character. He will 
soon find the wise and virtuous gathering about him and 
becoming his personal friends. He will at last have the 
unspeakable satisfaction of respecting himself, as a man 
of conscious virtue, and of receiving the growing confi- 
dence and esteem of mankind. 



THE NATUKAL MOTIVE POWEES. 51 

As in the previous chapter we endeavored to show how 
the natural appetites should be controlled / so in this we 
have endeavored to show how the morbid appetites should 
be restored. The youth wlio would do well for himself, is 
earnestly requested to examine the directions, and to 
apply them as his case may demand. 



CHAPTER lY. 



NATURAL AFFECTION. 



Affection is the feeling usually termed love and hatred. 
It is attended with more or less emotion, and when the 
emotional element is intense it becomes a passion. Hence 
we saj a person is passionately in love. The passion may 
be great, and yet be attended with little or no benevolence 
towards its object. This is a very impure affection, and 
sometimes degenerates to mere Inst. And so also the pas- 
sion of anger, which is a feeling of excited hostility, may 
become less and less rational, and thus pass into a blind 
frenzy. But the simple affection itself, as a primitive 
faculty, is to be distinguished from these passionate ex- 
citements. 

DISTINCTION BETWEEN AFFECTION AND DESIKE. 

Affection has respect to persons / desire, to whatever 
respects their enjoyment, or their suffering. We love or 
hate the man ; we desire his good or harm. "We love our 
children ; we desire their happiness. Keligious men love 
God, they desire to promote his glory. Thus the object 
of affection is living beings ; the object of desire is inan- 
imate things. 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 63 

There is an affection, also, which we bestow upon the 
brute creation, but it is of a different kind from that which 
we bestow upon rational beings. "We jnstly consider a 
person wanting in some important qualities of heart, who 
manifests no love towards animals. A man may truly love 
his faithful dog, although the affection is unlike that which 
he has for his child. The girl may love her playful kitten, 
but not as she does her little brother. 

Men sometimes speak of loving certain kinds of food 
and diink. But we have not an affection for them ; it is 
a desire or relish. We also speak of loving our homes, 
firesides, the graves of friends ; of loving scenes of rural 
quiet, groves, mountains, sequestered valleys. So far 
as real affection is concerned, and not merely impas- 
sioned desire and sentiment, our feeling here results from 
associating these objects with living beings. 

The sacred writers sometimes employ the same term, 
comprehensively, to designate both affection and desire. 
" Love not the world, nor the things that are in the world." 
" Set your affection on things above." Men also speak, 
in popular language, of loving money and applause. 
Strictly speaking, however, it is not an affection which 
t^ey have for these things ; it is a covetous and vain desire. 

Affection, as we have seen, is not merely a feeling of 
love ; it includes the opposite, haired. Whether the ma- 
levolent affection is a part of our original constitution, or 
a result of the apostasy, love turned to hate, is a fair ques- 
tion, which we may consider hereafter. And here again 
it is restricted to conscious beings. We may hate a fel- 
low-being ; we may also, in an inferior sense, hate certain 
animals, as a toad or a snake, but we cannot properly be 
said to hate an inanimate object. It does not appear 
that the woman hated the serpent, before the fall ; on the 
contrary, she seems to have loved it too confidingly ; but 



54: MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the fall put enmity between them, and turned the love to 
hatred. 

Brutes have natural affection, but not moral. Having 
no rational nature, no conscience, their affections can 
never be regulated by moral principle, and must there- 
fore remain mere instincts. 

The most important of the natural affections are the 
following : 

1. Parental Affection. 

2. Filial Affection. 

3. Fraternal Affection. 

4. Conjugal Affection. 

5. Social Affection. 

We shall examine them in the above order. 

I. PARENTAL AFFECTION. 

Parental affection is the love of parents towmds their 
offspring. It is not restricted to our race ; we share it 
with brutes. It does not spring from the relation itself, 
but from the knowledge or belief that it exists. An ani- 
mal loves and nourishes the young of another as fondly as 
her own, if she receives the charge under circumstances to 
conceal the imposition. The same is true of the human 
affection. Let a new-born infant be presented to a mother, 
in case her own is dead ; let her from the first suppose that 
infant to be her own offspring ; and she will have for it 
the genuine mother's affection. 

Hence the idea entertained by some of a certain dis- 
criminating feeling, leading parents- to recognize and love 
their own offspring independently of the admonition of 
the senses, is a pure chimera. We trace the parental 
affection to its source, when we say, the parent is so 
constituted that the moment she sees in the infant child 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 65 

her own or lier supposed offspring, a peculiar feeling to- 
wards it springs up in her heart. This feeling is parental 
love ; and it is as spontaneous as the desire for food, or 
the flow of the blood. 

Panfental Love Modified hy Circumstances. — ^Thus com- 
mences the parental affection. It is born into the world 
under the same providence that gives birth to the infant, 
that it may embrace the helpless stranger, and care for 
its wants. But let that infant die, or be for ever separated 
from its parents, and the intensity of the affection will 
gradually diminish. This is a merciful provision. 

On the other hand, let the infant grow up under the 
fostering care of the parent, and every day will entwine 
new chords of love around the parent's heart. Every 
smile and every tear, every joy and every pain, of the 
cherished and dependent child, augments the parental 
love. This, again, is a kind provision ; since every addi- 
tional care and anxiety for the child, demands a fresh sup- 
ply of love to sustain it. 

Design of Parental Affection.' — 1. It is the first ob- 
vious design of this affection to secure the requisite atten- 
tion of parents to their offspring. In the case of the 
brute, it is the only means of securing it. Without this, 
all the offspring of brutes which are dependent on paren- 
tal care, would be left to perish. 

A sense of duty should indeed induce parents to take 
care of then- children ; but it would not do to depend upon 
this motive alone. In multitudes it is nearly or quite 
wanting ; and in all, at some periods of life, it is too feeble 
and inconstant to insure the result. Without the prompt- 
ings of parental love to supply its place, or to attend it, 
multitudes of infant children, which are now cared for, 
would undoubtedly be abandoned to suffering and death. 

2. This affection seems to have been designed to ren- 



56 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

der parents happy in their duties to their offspring. "What 
a burden would be imposed upon the mother, if all her 
care and watchfulness were from a mere sense of duty ! 
With what languid step and heavy heart would the toil- 
worn father go to his daily task, to earn bread for his de- 
pendent family, if he did not love them. The thought 
of taking the dear little ones on his knee at evening, re- 
conciles him to the labors of the day. 

As the mother has usually more to do with the chil- 
dren than the father has ; as it is especially her suffering 
and patience that are taxed ; so to her is given the larger 
portion of parental love. Indeed, the heart of the affec- 
tionate mother has been well called " the masterpiece of 
nature's works." There is perhaps no other form in which 
humanity appears so lovely, or " presents so fair a copy 
of the divine image after which it was made." 

It is often truly said, that parents love their children 
more than children do their parents. Here again is a 
gracious adaptation of means to ends. Parents have or- 
dinarily more to do for their children, than children for 
their parents. The providing, the care, the anxiety, the 
patience, the sacrifice of health, and sometimes of life it- 
self, are all mostly on the parent's side. Hence the pa- 
rent naturally requires the greater share of love. 

3. This affection is designed to subserve important 
Tnoral and religious ends. It imparts earnestness and 
perseverance to the efforts of parents, to train up their 
children in the way they should go. Thus nature prompts 
the parent to do what duty demands. How many sons 
have been rescued from destruction by the promptings of 
maternal love. There is, perhaps, no principle of our na- 
ture, with which Christianity more gracefully blends, or 
which it more charmingly adorns, than parental love. 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWEES. 57 



II. FILIAL AFFECTION. 

Filial affection is the love of children towards theh 
parents. This, as well as the preceding, springs not from 
the relation itself, but from the knowledge of it, or belief 
that it exists. The child that has always supposed his 
nurse to be his own mother, has towards her all the na- 
tural love of an own child. The same is true of his rela- 
tion to the supposed father. If only the longing to sus- 
tain the relation expressed by the word own^ as related to 
the parent, is gratified, the filial affection springs into life. 

How the filial affection is developed. — ^Although filial 
love is as truly instinctive as parental, it is not so soon de- 
veloped. As it does not depend upon the relation itself, 
but upon the child's knowledge of it, it cannot of course 
be exercised until the child is old enough to comprehend 
the relation. But filial love, in its early stages, has more 
of passion and less of benevolence than parental love has. 
Hence the child loves his mother, who smiles upon him 
and gives him kisses and sweetmeats, more than he loves 
his father who toils for his bread. As he grows older, and 
better appreciates the father's labors, he divides his affec- 
tions more equally ; but the early cares and caresses of the 
fond mother have so preoccupied his heart, that he seldom 
fails to give her his warmest affection through life. 

It is often said that daughters love their fathers more 
than they do their mothers, and that sons love their 
mothers more than they do their fathers. K this be so, 
it may be owing to the tendencies of the sexes to love 
each other ; the more delicate qualities of the one and the 
stern qualities of the other awakening a reciprocity of in- 
terest ; and perhaps, also, to the fact, that the father has 
the principal government of the sons, and the mother of 



58 MOBAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the daughters, each thereby in a measure thwarting the 
inclinations with which natural affection is intimately 
blended. For although an ungoverned child does not 
truly love, the child is very apt to give the greater share 
of affection to that one of the parents, from whom the least 
restraint and punishment directly come. 

Design of filial affection. — ^Filial affection was de- 
signed to secure the needful submission of children to 
their parents. Unless the offspring of brutes had some 
attachment to their parents, they would die of exposure 
and starvation. It is essential to their preservation, that 
they should be subject to guardianship. The same is true 
of children. Incapable of taking care of themselves, in 
the exercise of their own will, they must be subject to 
the will of their parents. Filial affection tends to secure 
this subjection. 

The same affection also makes the child Ka/pjpy in this 
subjection. Obedience is not cordial without it. The 
child is cheerful and glad to obey his parents, only as 
he loves them. Without love, like the prisoner in chains, 
he submits only from necessity. 

This affection is also designed to subserve moral and 
religious ends. Many a parent has been saved from vice 
and ruin through efforts prompted by filial love. Such is 
the reciprocity of effort for each other's welfare, induced 
by the mutual love of parents and children, that morality 
and religion have ever looked to it with special and avail- 
ing hope. 

ni. FEATEENAL AFFECTIOl?'. 

Fraternal affection is the love which exists hetween 
children of the same family. It originates, like the pre- 
ceding, with the knowledge of the relation. A peculiar 
affection is enkindled by the knowledge of an own brother 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 59 

or sister ; and, unless destroyed by some untoward event, 
it is as lasting as life. 

This affection does not seem to exist in the brute crea- 
tion, excepting as it is occasioned by the offspring of the 
same parent being associated together. Their affections 
are merely social, because their knowledge does not em- 
brace the nature of the fraternal relation. 

Design of fraternal affection. — As> children of the same 
family have an interest especially common ; as they com- 
mence existence in the same nursery, gather in the same 
domestic circle, sit around the same table, share in the 
same inheritance, participate in the same joys and afflic- 
tions ; it was needful that they should have an affection 
especially adapted to this relation. 

Fraternal love was designed to render brothers and sis- 
ters happy, earnest, faithful in devotion to each other's 
welfare and to the common interests of the household. 
"When this love is true and constant, it presents one of the 
most lovely scenes on earth. 

What more pleasing than to see the elder sister extend- 
ing an almost maternal care over her younger brothers ? 
Or the brother tenderly watchful of the character, the 
wants, the happiness, of his sisters ? What sight better 
calculated to impress convictions of the wisdom and good- 
ness of the Creator in implanting these affections, than 
that of a family whose members thus seem to seek each 
other's welfare as sincerely as they do their own ! 

Fraternal affection has often less of passion and more 
of benevolence than conjugal. Unless some alienating 
circumstances interpose, it commonly lasts through life, 
and induces brothers and sisters to make sacrifices for each 
other's good, which they will make for no other human 
beings, excepting those of their own families. It is thus 
one of the strongest as well as most lovely of the natural 



60 MOKAI. PHILOSOPHY. 

affections. Solomon has even honored it so highly as to 
make it inferior only to the highest and best of all affec- 
tions. "There is a friend that sticketh closer than a 
brother." 

lY. CONJUGAL AFFECTION. 

Conjugal affection is the love that exists "between hus- 
hand and wife. It differs in the order of development from 
fraternal and filial love. Instead of springing from the 
perceived relation of the parties, it gives rise to it. They 
do not love each other because they are married, bnt they 
were married because they loved. 

Another peculiarity of this affection is, that it exists 
only between the sexes. It is tlierefore apt to have, espe- 
cially in its earliest stages, more of passion and less of 
benevolence than the love of kindred. But after the par- 
ties have become legally united, so that each is felt to be 
rightfully and for ever the other's own^ a new desire is 
gratified, a new element is added to the affection ; and 
from this time it has all the qualities of conjugal love. It 
gradually becomes more chastened, pure, benevolent ; it 
becomes stronger and steadier ; and is finally the most dom- 
inant and enduring natural affection of the human heart. 

Although provision is made for conjugal love, in the 
physical and mental constitution, it is optional with us 
whether to avail ourselves of this provision. Many live 
and die apparently satisfied, without ever tasting the 
sweets of conjugal love. But as provision was made for 
it in our nature, it is clear that Providence designed it, 
and that to be married, at a suitable age, is the most 
natural and the happiest state of man. 

Design of conjugal affection. — ^The objects contem- 
plated by conjugal affection, are, the continuance of the 
species ; the united care and training of offspring ; the 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 61 

mutual happiness of the parties in each other, and in 
their children ; and, generally, all the benefits of the do 
mestic constitution. It was not good that man should be 
alone, hence, the Creator made an " help-meet for " him ; 
but had he only made the help-meet, without making pro- 
vision in the nature of each party for the conjugal affec- 
tion^ the relation would have been a task instead of a 
pleasure. 

"Were it made the duty of parties to unite in marriage, 
without conjugal love, that duty would be seldom under- 
taken and poorly executed. Conjugal love heightens 
every enjoyment, lightens every burden, divides every 
care, relieves all anxieties, sweetens afflictions, and strews 
all along life's toilsome and rugged path the flowers and 
fruits of primeval paradise. 

Hence the design 'of the marriage covenant This cov- 
enant, provided for in the constitution of the sexes, was 
instituted in paradise by God himself. To it are due all 
the inestimable blessings of domestic life ; and, indirectly, 
of all those social and civil relations which elevate and 
adorn the human race. 

Thus all the family affections combine to form, protect, 
and bless the domestic institution; the most important 
institution upon earth, and that on which all others de- 
pend. I^othing can be imagined more worthy of Him 
who made and blessed it, nothing can be more fruitful of 
good to mankind, than the family in which all the paren- 
tal, filial, conjugal, and fraternal affections are fully de- 
veloped, and are in healthy and harmonious play. Such 
a family, itself happy, is both the germ and the emblem 
of a happy civil community, a happy state, a happy na- 
tion. Thus all our hopes, for our country and for the 
world, revert to the family, and depend upon the domestic 
affections. 



MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 



SOCIAL AFFECTION 



This affection differs from those which we have exam- 
ined in being less specijiG. Love for more distant kindred, 
for members of the same society, for townsmen, for coun- 
trymen, is naturally less intense than that which we have 
for our family relatives, but is not wholly different. We 
love our cousins, partly because we feel that some of our 
family blood flows in their veins. There is in it something 
of \hQ fraternal feeling. For a similar reason we love per- 
sons of our race more than those of another. We love 
Americans and Englishmen more than Indians and Hot- 
tentots, because they are naturally nearer to us. More 
of their blood flows in our veins. 

Exceptions to the above rule occur only when affec- 
tion takes an eccentric and unnatural direction. For this 
reason, people of the same race incline to intermarry and to 
form nations. And hence marriages between individuals 
of nations very unlike each other, as between an English- 
man and a Chinese, are clearly contrary to the design of 
Providence. We feel an instinctive repugnance to all 
such unnatural alliances. 

On the other hand, near relatives, however sincere 
and intense their mutual love, do not naturally have for 
each other a conjugal affection. Intermarriage between 
them is also further interdicted by the fact, that it tends 
to the destruction of both mind and body, and thus to the 
ultimate extinction of the race. Hence the true conjugal 
affection exists between parties of the same or similar 
nations, and of similar taste and culture, but of different 
family connections. 

The affection which results merely from being of the 
same society, town, or country, is easily accounted for. 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 63 

Intercourse and identity of interests naturally tend to 
beget mutual affection. They produce similarity of 
views, tastes, principles, habits ; they introduce men 
to that intimate acquaintance with each other's private 
life, from which affection mostly originates. Our con- 
scious love is mostly restricted to those with whom we 
have, by personal intercourse or by other means, a some- 
what intimate knowledge. Hence the affection between 
members of the same literary, secular, or religious society. 
They have common views and instincts, and they often 
meet together under circumstances favorable to excite 
friendly feelings. 

We may not be conscious of any peculiar affection for 
the people of our own town, state, or nation, whilst we 
are in the midst of them, but after having passed some 
time in a strange land, we greet one of them as a brother. 
Persons who scarcely cared to speak with each other in 
their native place, on meeting in distant lands, can hardly 
express their mutual satisfaction. 

Affection for our country^ or ^patriotism.' — ^The particu- 
lar affection which we have for the people of our own 
country, together with the special interest we take in its 
soil, its institutions, its struggles, its conquests, its fortunes, 
is teYm.ed patriotism. Imagination and association have 
much agency in producing this affection. 

Patriotism is usually truer and more intense in small 
than in large countries, and in countries rough and barren 
than in those smoother and more fertile. The reason, in the 
former case, is, that the people are brought nearer together ; 
that their interests are more strictly one ; and that, in their 
relative feebleness as a nation, they are more dependent 
upon each other. In the latter case, the common struggles 
and mutual sympathy of the people, in the peculiar ex- 
posures and hardships of their condition, as in the case 



64 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

of the Swiss, the Highlanders of Scotland, and the Lap- 
landers, tend to endear them to each other. 

When, however, a nation becomes very large and 
powerful, so as to hold a proud rank among other na- 
tions, as was the case with the Koman empire, and is now 
the case with the British empire, and with the United 
States, there is an appeal to the national love of glory, 
which operates powerfully upon the people to attach them 
to their country and to its institutions. 

GENERAL REMARKS UPON THE AEFECTIONS. 

We have thus noticed the leading affections which 
are strictly natural^ and the purposes for which they 
were designed. Had they been wanting, our race 
would have long since ceased from the earth, or 
would have continued only to perpetuate its wretch- 
edness. As they are excellent in their nature, and 
perfectly adapted to their end, they reflect honor upon 
their Creator, but imply no praiseworthiness in us. 
They are his doing ; jiot ours. But while the mere pre- 
sence of them implies in us no moral worthiness, their 
absence or abuse implies gnilty violence done to our na- 
ture, and usually results from a profligate life. He that 
is ''without natural affection," is in the Bible ranked 
among the vilest of men. 

It should also be observed, that as God has commanded 
us to exercise these affections, while it is an immorality 
and a sin to withhold or pervert them, to exercise them 
in the spirit of obedience to the divine will, is both a 
moral and a religious act. On the right use of them our 
character eminently depends. Some of the purest joys of 
life on earth, and most seraphic joys of eternal life in 
heaven, spring from obedient and holy affection. 



CHAPTER V. 



NATURAL DESIRE 



Some authors confound desire with appetite. What 
Whewell terms " bodily desire " is occasioned by appe- 
tite, but the cause and the effect should not be identified. 
Appetite, as we have seen, is a permanent principle of 
our nature, but we desire food or drink only when appe- 
tite is excited by a state of hunger or thirst. And, as to 
all other desires, they may exist in every state of the phy- 
sical system. A man desires food only when he is hun- 
gry ; but he as much desires fame, wealth, power, knowl- 
edge, after his hunger is satisfied, as he did before. 
Hence, neither class of desires should be identified with 
appetite. 

Desire differs from emotion, in the following particu- 
lars. First, emotion has reference to the past, as well as 
to the future : desire has respect only to the future. 
Hence Thomas Brown calls desire "prospective emo- 
tion." But the emotion attending desire is not the desire 
itself. Secondly, desire is less fluctuating than emotion. 
While emotion rises and falls, like the sea-tides, desire 
moves steadily onward, like the river, to its object. Emo- 



6Q MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

tion is more immediatelj dependent than pui'ely liiental 
desire upon exciting causes. We hence speak of the cause 
of emotion and of the origin of desire. Thirdly, emotion 
may exist in reference to objects of aversion, hatred, dis- 
gust ; but desire always implies the wishing or longing 
for its object. 

The most important of the natural desires are the fol- 
lowing : 

1. Desire of Life. 

2. Desire of Happiness. 

3. Desire of Society. 

4. Desire of Knowledge. 

5. Desire of Esteem. • 

6. Desire of Owning. 
T. Desire of Power.* 

DESIRE OF LIFE. 

A desire to live for ever is natural to all human beings. 
Agonizing or protracted disease, repeated disappoint- 
ments, the pangs of remorse, sometimes overcome it ; but 
no other desire so long and so resolutely resists their at- 
tacks. It is the last to die out of the heart. " All that a 
man hath will he give for his life." When we hear a man 
say, his existence has become such a burden that he has 
no longer any desire for life, our sympathy is excited for 
him, as one on whom crime or misfortune has laid its 
heaviest hand. 

Some suppose that the desire of life results from a con- 
sideration of the good connected with it. But the fact 

* Reid reckons three primitive desires, that of Power, of Knowledge, and 
of Esteem. Vol. IV., p. 76. Stewart makes Jive, adding to tlie above, Desire 
of Society and of Superiority. Whewell also has jSve, but substitutes Desire 
of Safety, and of Having, for Stewart's Desire of Knowledge and of Power. 
Vol. I. p. 42. 



THE NATTJEAL MOTIVE POWERS. 67 

that men cling tenaciously to it, sometimes even in the 
entire absence of all present or prospective good, and in 
despite of the most appalling evils, justifies the conclusion 
that they have a strong inborn desire of life for its own 
sake. 

The most important of the purposes which it seems 
designed to subserve are the three following. 

1. It was designed to protect life. — By connecting the 
desire of life with our existence, the Creator has given a 
guardian angel to protect us. Without this, how feebly 
should we endure our trials ; how often should we be fa- 
tally tempted to throw life away ! Sustained by this, man 
often submits to protracted pains of hunger, to agonizing 
operations upon his body, and to endless varieties of in- 
tense mental suffering. It serves to render him patient, 
enduring, victorious. 

There is, indeed, a higher motive, a sense of duty, that 
should induce us to prize and protect life ; but this does 
not operate in all, nor in any at so early a period, or with 
such unfailing constancy, as the case requires. Here, as 
in many other instances, natural instinct serves as a sub- 
stitute or an aid to moral principle, in securing our wel- 
fare. 

2. This desire contrihutes to our enjoyment. — Coope- 
rating with the sense of duty, it makes it our pleasure to 
cherish and protect life. If parents had no desire for the 
continuance of their offspring, if all labors and sufferings 
for them were prompted only by a sense of duty, the hap- 
piness of the parental relation would be immeasurably 
diminished. For the same reason, if we had no natural 
desire of our own life, if all we do and suffer to protect it 
were from a mere feeling of obligation, much of the ser- 
vice that we now enjoy would become an irksome and 
painful burden. 



68 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

3. This desire has a moral and religious end. — ^It has 
been abeady said, that the desire in question combines 
with the feeling of duty in enabling ns to struggle with 
trials. It thus helps ns to gain a victory on the side of 
virtue. I^or is this all. The same desire of life, project- 
ing itself into eternity, predisposes ns to welcome that 
Gospel which brings life and immortality to light. One 
of the strongest holds which Christianity has upon ns, is 
found in our desire to live for ever. 

The desire of life moves us also to gratitude. In grant- 
ing us from day to day what we ever desire, our Creator 
makes constant demands upon our grateful acknowledg- 
ments ; a debt which we should never be slow to pay. 
And when he lifts the gate of the tomb, and points us to 
an endless life beyond it, language is too feeble to express 
the gratitude we owe. 

The Christian is reconciled to the dissolution of the 
body, not because life is to him a bui'den, but because he 
has faith in Him who said, " He that believeth in me 
shall never die." ISTever is his desire of life more real 
and intense, than at the moment when he is about to die. 

DESIRE OF HAPPINESS. 

Some have considered this the only primitive desire, 
laying the foundation for all the others. Thus they sup- 
pose the desire of life, of society, of knowledge, &c., only 
secondary to that of happiness, the former being valued 
only as means to the latter. This view, advocated by 
Hume, Hobbes, and others, is sometimes called the selfish 
scheme, because it makes all human desires and actions 
spring from motives of personal happiness. It is a suffi- 
cient refutation of this view, that the primitive desires 
seek their ends, irrespective of consequences. This may at 



THE NATUEAL MOTIVE POWERS. W 

first seem a begging of the question. There can be no 
doubt that the desire of happiness is all-pervading. It 
commences with our rational existence, operates at all 
times, and modifies all oui- actions. We cannot annihi- 
late it, if we would. It is probably the most constant and 
powerful natural motive of which we are the subjects. 

It does not follow, however, that we desire nothing but 
from a mere regard to happiness. Instead of saying that we 
desire life, society, knowledge, esteem, only for the happi- 
ness they afi'ord, we ought rather to say, that they afibrd us 
happiness because we have an instinctive desire for them. 
"We should find little enjoyment in society, if we had not 
a social nature. Thus our desire of happiness harmo- 
nizes with our other instincts, as well as with our moral 
nature. 

But while some have supposed that all our other de- 
sires, even those of a religious nature, spring from the de- 
sire of happiness, it has been maintained, on the other 
hand, that this motive ought to have tw place. The no- 
tion of a disinterested benevolence has even been pressed 
so far, as to denounce every desire, affection, and act, not 
disconnected from all motives of personal happiness. This 
again is making war upon the wisdom of the Creator. 
Such a notion, seriously entertained, puts conscientiously 
religious persons upon the rack of self-torture, to divest 
themselves of a portion of their mental constitution ; thus 
introducing discouragement and gloom into the soul, in 
place of repentance and hope ; or, what is scarcely less to 
be deprecated, mocks them with the vain presumption, 
fatal to all genuine humility, that they have at last made 
the more than angelic attainment. He who imagines 
himself entirely indifferent to his own happiness, is either 
deceived or insane. 



70 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



DESIKE OF SOCIETY. 

Man is by nature a social being. Indeed the disposi- 
tion to associate and sbare each other's pursuits and en- 
joyments, seems to pervade all living creatures. The 
domestic fowls about our dwellings, the sheep and cattle 
in our pastures, the wild deers and buffaloes in the forest, 
the birds of the air, the fishes of the sea, all manifest the 
same propensity. 

Something analogous to this seems to pervade even the 
inanimate creation. All atoms and all portions of matter 
tend to unite. The stars of heaven move in clusters ; no 
one of them wanders in space alone. Each has a mission 
for others, as well as for itself. 

So strong is the disposition in creatures to associate, 
that, when deprived of society from their own species, 
they seek it in others ; even those whom they naturally 
hate. Thus sheep and dogs, horses and oxen, cats and 
birds, for want of companions of their own species, have 
sometimes formed earnest attachments with each other. 

For the same reason, men in solitude have sometimes 
become intensely attached to the most hateful creatures. 
" The Count de Lauzun was confined for nine years in 
the castle of Pignerol, in a small room, where no light 
could enter but from a chink in the roof. In this solitude 
he attached himself to a spider, and continued for some 
time to amuse himself with attempting to tame it, with 
catching files for its support, and with superintending the 
progress of the webs. The jailer discovered his amuse- 
ment, and killed the spider ; and the Count used afterwards 
to declare, that the pang he felt on the occasion, could 
be compared only to that of a mother for the loss of a 
child." * 

* Stewart's Active and Moral Powers, p. 25. 



THE NATUKAL MOTIVE POWERS. 71 

The helplessness of infants forbids in them so early a 
development of the social principle, as is seen in animals, 
but they manifest it by indubitable signs, as soon as they 
are capable. " Attend to the eyes, the features, and the 
gestures of a child on the breast, when another child is 
presented to it ; both instantly, previous to the possibility 
of instruction or habit, exhibit the most indubitable ex- 
pression of joy. Their eyes sparkle, and their features 
and gestures demonstrate, in the most unequivocal man- 
ner, a mutual attachment." * 

This desire was evidently intended to render beings 
subservient to each other's wants, and happy in each 
other's society. If they were compelled to associate mere- 
ly for mutual protection and sustenance, society would be 
a burden to be endured rather than a luxury to be en- 
joyed. 

The social principle extends to religious as well as 
secular interests, uniting man with man in the bonds of a 
common faith. All religious bodies depend upon this 
principle, both for their origin and continuance. But 
for this, each individual would only worship his God 
alone. There would be no churches, no common altars, 
no social heaven. The same social instinct which unites 
us in the humbler affairs of time, which makes families, 
neighborhoods, nations, unites us also in the higher inter- 
ests of religion, and finally brings human and angelic 
beings together, in fulness of sympathy and mutual joy, 
around the throne of heaven. 

DESIEE OP KNOWLEDaE. 

The human mind is naturally inquisitive. It desires 
to know. One of the first manifested propensities of the 

*Smime'sPhn. Chap. XI. 



Y2 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

little child is, to become acquainted with every object 
about him. He is not yet old enough to ask questions, 
but his actions indicate to every observer that a thousand 
questions are struggling in his mind. What is this ? What 
is that ? say his little glancing eyes and busy hands. 

The first acts of infancy are engaged in experimenting 
with the senses upon the outer world. The infant has 
every thing to learn. He does not at first know how to 
interpret his own sensations and perceptions. Whether 
the object before him is at a distance, or in contact with 
the eye, whether it is yielding or resistant, substance or 
shadow, reality or phantom, he has yet to learn. The in- 
born principle of curiosity sets him earnestly and success- 
fully upon this work. 

Hence the eagerness with which childi*en handle every 
thing in their way, their attempts to thrust their fingers 
into the flame of a candle, and their readiness to take up 
a shadow. The interest they realize in correcting their 
errors and gaining new ideas, m-ges them on, in subse- 
quent life, to higher attainments ; to the investigation of 
mathematical truths, historical facts, and all the phenom- 
ena of nature. 

Kor is the desire of knowledge restricted to obvious 
and useful facts. It soon begins to search out latent 
causes. It explores not only the needful, but the curious. 
Even when one has no reason to suppose the desired 
knowledge will be of any practical utility, he still pur- 
sues it. When a physician has lost a patient by an inter- 
nal cause that has baffled the diagnosis of the profession, 
he desires a post-mortem examination, scarcely less to 
gratify his curiosity than to guide his future practice. 
The astronomer eyes the heavens for months, with intense 
gaze, to descry the feeble twinkling of some star, the 
knowledge of which can add nothing to the comforts of life. 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. TS 

If any suppose that thirst for applause occasions all 
this, the answer readily is, that were it not for the princi- 
ple of curiosity in man, ambition conld not find in the 
popular response any reward for its services. Such is our 
desire of knowledge, that we both seek it ourselves, and 
bestow the meed of honor upon those who successfully 
seek it for us. 

This desire was intended both to stimulate us in the 
pursuit of knowledge, and to render us happy in obtain- 
ing and possessing it. It thus sustains to the mind a rela- 
tion like that which appetite does to the body. Knowl- 
edge is the mind's appropriate food. But without the de- 
sire for it, all study would be mere " weariness of the flesh," 
toil and drudgery, without any rewarding satisfaction. 

Incited and nerved by this desire, the human mind 
has surmounted immeasurable difficulties ; it has scaled 
more than Alpine summits. Urged onward by the same 
indomitable principle, it is laying this entire world under 
contribution ; and it is encouraged in its career, with the 
sublime hope of another and a boundless one to explore 
beyond the present 

DESIRE OF ESTEEM. 

'No human being is entirely indifferent to the opinions 
of others respecting him. Indeed man was made to find 
much of his enjoyment in the approving smiles of his fel- 
low-beings. Wq are so constituted, that the approbation 
or disapprobation of those especially whom we love, is 
cordial or wormwood to our spirits. 

We may contend against the desire of esteem, we may 
call it by hard names ; we may imagine it vanquished ; 
still it clings to us, as undying and active as the soul it- 
self. It is the Creator's own work within us ; why then 
should we condemn or disown it ? Milton calls it an " in- 
4 



74 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

firmitj," but the " infirmity of a noble mind." Some 
bave endeavored to prove, from a mistaken idea of some- 
thing wrong in tbis principle, tbat it is no part of our 
constitution. Tbey maintain tbat " tbe esteem of our fel- 
low-creatui'es is at first desired on account of its appre- 
hended utility, and that it comes in time to be pm-sued as 
an ultimate end, without any reference on our part to the 
advantages it bestows." To this notion it has been justly 
replied, "As the object of hunger is not happiness, but 
food ; as the object of cuiiosity is not happiness, but 
knowledge, so the object of this principle of action is not 
happiness, but the esteem and respect of other men." * 

The desire of esteem is not confined to the present ; it 
projects itself into the future. We desire to be held in 
honor by our fellow-beings after we are laid in the grave, 
scarcely less than while living among them. The numer- 
ous monuments of war, of genius, of art, of literature, 
which ambition has erected to perpetuate the fame of its 
subjects after they have passed away, are all witnesses of 
the activity of this principle. 

The question is often asked, Why should we desire the 
esteem of others, after it can no longer be of any advan- 
tage to us ? The answer is. We desii-e it in future, for the 
same reason that we desire it in the present, not for its 
advantages, but for itself. 

Some attempt to resolve this desire into an illusion of 
the imagination, produced by habit. They suppose that 
habit has taught men to imagine themselves present, en- 
joying a reputation among their fellow-beings after they 
are dead. " Men please themselves," says WoUaston, 
" with notions of immortality, and fancy a perpetuity of 
fame secured to themselves by books and testimonies of 

* Stewart, p. 29. 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 75 

liistorians ; but, alas ! it is a stupid delusion when thej 
imagine themselves present and enjoying that fame or the 
reading of their stor j after their death. 

And beside, in reality, the man is not even known the 
more to posterity, because his name is transmitted to them. 
Se doth not live, because his ncrnie does. When it is said, 
Julius Csesar conquered Gaul, beat Pompey, and changed 
the Roman Commonwealth into a monarchy, it is the same 
thing as to say. The conqueror of Pompey was Caesar ; 
that is, Caesar and the conqueror of Pompey are the same 
thing, and Caesar is as much known by the one designation 
as by the other. The amount, then, is only this, that the 
conqueror of Pompey conquered Pompey ; or, rather, 
since Pompey is now as little known as Caesar, somebody 
conquered somebody. Such a poor business is this boasted 
immortality ; and such as has been described, is the thing 
called glory among us." * 

Now the obvious truth here, as in all other instances, 
is, that the instinct of our nature is in beautiful harmony 
with God's moral government and our immortality. "We 
were made both to find happiness in the esteem of good 
beings and also to exist for ever. The two facts are not 
to be disconnected. When, therefore, we desire to be 
" had in everlasting remembrance," and pm-sue the right 
course to be thus remembered, we are fulfilling our true 
destiny. 

The most important purposes of the desire in question 
are the three following : 

1. It was designed to induce us to merit esteem. It 
is thus a powerful motive to virtuous action. When a 
youth has learned to say, he ^' don't care " for the opin- 
ions of others, he is not far from ruin. 

* Quoted by Stewart, p. 28. 



76 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

If any suppose that the desire of esteem, as a motive 
to virtue, would naturally make us endeavor to appear 
better than we really are, it is sufficient to reply, that 
Providence has so constituted us, that we cannot really 
enjoy esteem, unless conscious that we deserve it. 

2. This desire was intended to render us ha^ppy in the 
favor of others. It furnishes an important part of the good 
man's motive and reward. It makes him welcome with 
delight every approving smile, and thus leads him on to 
higher merit and a still richer inheritance. The most 
enviable person on earth, so far as this life is concerned, 
is he who truly desires and fully receives the approbation 
of all good men. ITo gold nor glory compares with this. 
Who would not have the reward of Washington, rather 
than the wealth of Croesus, or the wreath of Caesar ? 

3. This desire was given us to subserve religion. Su- 
premely directed to the Supreme Being, it becomes a re- 
ligious principle of high order, and fosters every pious 
sentiment. Much as the Christian may value the esteem 
of his fellow-beings, he values the approbation of Cod 
immeasurably more. Whenever, therefore, a conflict arises 
between the two, the instinct of his nature, under guidance 
of Christian principle, prompts him to seek the " honor 
that comes from Cod only." He is thus sure of ulti- 
mately securing the esteem of all good beings. 

DESIKE OF OWNING. 

This is called by Whewell the desire of having. But the 
entire idea is not thus expressed. We may have what is 
not our own. He however explains himself to intend, at 
least in part, what we mean by the word own. " But the 
desire to possess such objects, as it exists in man, goes be- 
yond the measure of their obvious use. He considers 



THE NATUEAI. MOTIVE POWERS. 77 

tliem as connected with himself in a permanent and exclu- 
sive manner, and looks upon them as his^ as his own. The 
things which he thus looks upon as his own, he is disturbed 
at the prospect of losing, and is angry at any one who at- 
tempts to take them from him. ]^or can he be at ease in 
his thoughts, or act steadily and tranquilly, except he be 
allowed to possess in quiet and security what he thus has 
as his. He needs to hold it as his property.''^ * 

But it would not be correct to speak of a man's hold- 
ing his wife, or his child, as his ""property ; " yet they are 
his own. 

Some writers do not consider the desire of owning 
original in our nature, but resolvable into other and more 
simple principles. Thus Stewart says, " The idea of pow- 
er is, partly at least, the foundation of our attachment to 
property. It is not enough for us to have the use of an 
object. We desire to have it completely at our own 
disposal, without being responsible to any person what- 
ever for the purposes to which we may choose to turn it." 

Doubtless the desire of power, as it exists in mature 
life, is partly the foundation of attachment to property ; 
but the child wants more than the entire use of an object ; 
he wants to feel that it is his own. "There is an unspeak- 
able pleasure," says Addison, " in calling any thing one's 
own. A freehold, though it be but in ice and snow, will 
make the owner pleased in the possession and stout in the 
defence of it." 

To have the disposal of an object, is not the same thing 
as to have it as one's own. Tlie child has not the disposal 
of his parent, yet the parent is his own. Neither has the 
parent the absolute disposal of his child ; yet the child is 
his own. Suppose an adopted child, over which the pa- 

^-g>v *Vol. I. p. 46. 



^8 MOEAI. PHILOSOPHY. 

rent is made by law to have as full control as over his 
own child ; is it precisely the same thing, either to parent 
or child, as though the child were really his own ? In that 
little word own there is a charm, springing from an in- 
stinct of our nature, of which none are ever fully di- 
vested. 

It will hence be seen, that while some wiiters have 
failed to recognize this instinct, others have failed to give 
a definition sufficiently generic to convey the entire idea 
ot it. A man's house, farm, wife, children, are all his 
own ; but only the first two are his property. Wives 
generally call their husbands their own ; but they do not 
often lay claim to them as their property ; nor are they 
often so fortunate as to be able to say. We have them 
" completely at our own disjjosal^^^ however much they 
may desire it. 

The two following seem to be the most important ends 
for which this desire was given us. 

1. It seems to have been intended to nourish the do- 
mestic affections. By it the bonds of conjugal, fraternal, 
filial, and j)aternal love, are greatly strengthened. "When 
the happy suitor can look upon the object of his afi'ections 
as truly his own, he realizes peculiar emotions of delight, 
which increase his love for the person. When he looks 
upon the smiling infant in its mother's arms as his own, he 
realizes an additional satisfaction. 

It is not because he has the entire control of these ob- 
jects of his love, or that he anticipates some advantage 
from them, that his pleasure is by them augmented ; it is 
because they are his own. Along with this gratified de- 
sire springs a new affection, and thus peculiar pleasures 
and affections pervade all the relations of domestic life. 
The reason why none but husbands and wives have the 
entire conjugal affection, and none but parents the entire 



TlIE NATUEAL MOTIVE POWEKS. Y9 

parental affection, seems to be, that none but they realize 
the gratification, in these particulars, of the desire now 
contemplated. 

2. This desire combines with others, especially with 
that of power, to produce the desire of property. It thus 
becomes an element of one of the main springs of human 
action. That the desire of property may be excessive, 
that it may degenerate into avarice, is no proof that it is 
not, when rightly controlled and directed, of great value. 
Annihilate it, and the wheels of enterprise would soon 
move sluggishly around ; civilized nations would soon fall 
from their eminence to the abject condition of those savage 
hordes, with whom industry has no motive, because prop- 
erty has no protection. 



DESIKE OF POWEK. 

"We mean by power the ability to produce results. Its 
greatness is measured by the results it can accomplish. 
Man delights in the consciousness of being able to sur- 
mount difficulties, and secure brilKant results. It is not 
merely the object gained, that gives him pleasure; it is 
the consciousness of being ohle to gain it. Men desire 
success for its own sake. 

'^ "When we are led to consider ourselves as the authors 
of any effect, we feel a sensible pride or exaltation in the 
consciousness of power ^ and the pleasure is in general 
proportioned to the greatness of the effect, compared with 
the smallness of our exertions. The pastimes of the boy 
are almost without exception such as suggest to him the 
idea of power. When he throws a stone or shoots an ar- 
row, he is pleased in the being able to produce an effect 
at a distance from him ; and, while he measures with his 
eye the amplitude or range of his missile weapon, contem- 



80 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

plates with satisfaction tlie extent to wMcli his power has 
reached. It is on a similar principle that he loves to bring 
his strength into comparison with that of his fellows, and 
to enjoy the consciousness of superior prowess." * 

The desire of power includes that of liberty. The 
power to do as we please, implies also the liberty to do so. 
We may have the liberty without the power, but we can- 
not have the power without the liberty. The one is gene- 
ric to the other. But the desire of each is equally exten- 
sive. Every human being wishes to be free. He is 
naturally impatient of any bond upon either his soul or 
body. He desires freely to use his limbs and members, 
his intellect, his will, his entire being. 

'^o constitutional desire is more marked and more 
obviously universal than this. The infant manifests it at 
the earliest period of activity, and the weight of fourscore 
years does not avail to repress it. l^ov does the highest 
attainment in moral excellence abate it. The purest and 
most angelic being, as well as the humblest, desires to be 
at liberty to use all his faculties as he pleases, responsible 
only to his conscience and his God. This is true liberty, 
and this is power. 

This principle of our nature was obviously designed to 
be an important stimulus to virtuous and noble endeavor. 
Without it, man's right arm would be crippled. Had the 
child no natural desire of power, he would probably end 
his days nearly as powerless as he commenced them. It 
co-operates with the desire of knowledge. The mastery 
of languages, sciences, arts, the command of logic, poetry, 
eloquence, insight into the springs of action, and the con- 
nection of causes and results, afforded by philosophical 
analysis and patient abstraction, all afford stirring induce- 

* Stewaxt, p. 4:1. 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 81 

ments to effort by appealing to tMs desire. Lord Bacon 
is said to have originated the maxim that knowledge is 
power, but long before his daj mankind knew that know- 
ledge was powerful, and ignorance weak. 

The same principle is active in urging men to high 
attainments in moral excellence. If knowredge is power, 
no less truly is excellence of chaiacter. If we desire the 
former to augment our influence over fellow-beings, why 
not for the same reason desire the latter ? We may have 
indeed another motive, of a moral kind, to urge us to this ; 
but here again, as in instances previously noticed, a 
natural motive cooperates with a moral one, to induce us 
to aim at the highest possible attainment in excellence, 
with a view to accomplishing the greatest good to man- 
kind. 

CONCLUDINa REMARKS ON THE DESIRES. 

We have thus enumerated seven primitive desires. It 
may seem unaccountable that they are so few. A young 
lady on being asked how many original desires there are 
in the human mind, replied, that she should think there 
are about a thousand ! She doubtless spoke out of the 
fulness of her own heart. 

But we must consider that our list enumerates merely 
the primary desires. These are only the elements from 
which all other desires are formed. The whole world is 
made from a few simple elements. Out of nine digits we 
form combinations reaching to infinity. As there is no 
measurable limit to the numbers into which the nine 
digits may be wrought, so there is none to the secondary 
desires of the human heart. Their name is legion^ for 
they are many. 

It is very important to remark, that we learn the de- 
signs of the Creator respecting us by our constitution^ not 
4* 



82 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

by our character. The former is his work ; the latter is 
ours. Let iis then look attentively at these constitutional 
desires, to learn from them his will. The reader is re- 
quested to recall each of them, as related to the following 
particulars. 

We learn from them, that our Creator would have us 
prize the being he has given us ; that he would have us 
value happiness, and pursue the course tending to perpet- 
uate and exalt it ; that he designed us to live in society, 
and to find enjoyment in the reciprocity of sympathy and 
affection ; that he made us to aspire after knowledge, and 
to cherish the expectation of endless progression in it; 
that we ought so to conduct as to merit and ultimately 
receive the esteem of all wise and good beings ; that we 
were designed, without any sacrifice of general benevo- 
lence, to sustain to certain objects a relation which ren- 
ders them peculiarly our own, such as accords with the 
tenderest affections and most personal wants of our na- 
ture ; and finall}^, that it was the divine intention that we 
should improve all our faculties with a view to the high- 
est practicable attainment, in physical, intellectual, and 
moral power. 

Who that examines the primitive desires of his nature, 
as implanted by the hand that made him, can fail to see 
that these are truly the benign and glorious designs of his 
Creator concerning him ; and who, that studies the Bible, 
can fail to see that precisely the same designs are revealed 
there ? How clearly does the light of philosophy blend 
with that of divine revelation. How certainly does a cor- 
rect analysis of the human mind point us to the revealed 
will of God, as coincident, in all points, with that indi- 
cated in our constitution. 



i 



CHAPTEE YI. 



NATURAL EMOTION" 



We have a great variety of transient feeling termed 
emotion. It is more or less associated with affection and 
desire, but may exist without them. We may have an 
emotion in reference to an object towards which we have 
neither love nor hatred, desire nor aversion. All such 
emotion, as well as that involved in natural affection and 
desire, is purely natural. 

An emotion takes its particular type and name from 
its outward or objective cause. When occasioned by the 
perception of a beautiful object, it is called an emotion of 
beauty; when by a sublime object, an emotion of sub- 
limity ; when by a terrific object, an emotion of terror ; 
when by a ludicrous object, an emotion of the ludicrous. 
The specific susceptibility to these various emotions differs 
much with different individuals ; and indeed in the same 
person the emotions gradually merge together, so that no 
exact line can at last be traced between them. In their 
extremes they are very dissimilar, but as they approach 
each other they assimilate, and finally become apparently 
the same. 



84: MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 



ILLTTSTEATIOITS OF THE VAKIOTJS EMOTIONS. 

Emotion of heauty. — As one goes out into the country 
on a bright June morning, looks upon the green hills, 
the winding streams, the rich foliage, the fields of spring- 
ing grain, the happy flocks and herds feeding in the pas- 
tures ; as his grateful lungs inhale the balmy air and his 
ears drink in its melodies, a feeling of fresh delight comes 
over him. He perhaps left his house feeling dull and de- 
pressed, but now he is alive with pleasure. He is realiz- 
ing an emotion of 'beauty. This emotion has various de- 
grees of intensity, but it is always pleasing. 

Emotion of svhlimjity. — As the person supposed con- 
tinues on his way, a cloud arises. It increases in size and 
blackness, and at length spans the heavens. Its deep 
broad folds sweep majestically along the horizon; the 
forked lightnings begin to play, and the thunders to roll in 
its dark bosom. 

His emotion has now changed. Before, it was com- 
paratively mild, gentle, tranquil; now it has become 
strong, earnest, intense. This is an emotion of sublimity. 
It is pleasing, but not as purely so as the emotion of 
beauty ; it has in it an element of the awful. 

Emotion of terror. — ^The above person turns to escape 
the approaching tempest, but it is too late. The light- 
nings, which before played sublimely in the distance, now 
hurl their fiery bolts around him. The mingled rain and 
hail pour in torrents ; the hurricane sweeps furiously 
along, prostrating trees and buildings ; nature seems to be 
frantic, and her enraged elements threaten universal de- 
struction. 

The emotion of the person supposed has now under- 
gone another change. It has become still more intense. 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 85 

It is violent, spasmodic, and perhaps uncontrollable. In- 
stead of being simply pleasing, as at first ; or pleasing 
with a dash of pathos approaching the awful, as in the 
second instance, it is decidedly and wholly painful. This 
is an emotion of terror. 

Emotion of the ludicrous. — ^The tempest at last sub- 
sides, and nature is again tranquil. All the sublime and 
terrible emotions of our friend have ceased, and he is re- 
turning composedly to his dwelling. But just as he is 
entering the town, he sees a young dandy, fresh from the 
toilet and dressed in his finest, making his first adventure 
out since the storm, and tripping gaily across the way. 
Stepping incautiously upon a slippery place, the unfortu- 
nate dandy loses his perpendicular, and goes headlong, 
with all his finery, into the mire. 

Our friend may indeed realize some feeling of pity for 
the unfortunate youth, but as no injury is done to his per- 
son, the predominant emotion is of another kind. He is 
instinctively convulsed with laughter. This emotion is 
rather pleasing, but very unlike that of beauty. This is 
an emotion of the ludicrous. It is much like the excite- 
ment which one feels on beholding the ludicrous capers 
of a buffoon, but is modified by the fact that the feat of 
the dandy was undesigned and unfortunate, while that of 
the buffoon is designed and fortunate. 

Emotions of surprise and wonder. — ^The man supposed 
at length returns to his dwelling. On entering it he finds 
there a former neighbor, whom he has not seen for many 
years, and whom he supposed was long since lost at sea. 
He at first scarely credits his own eyes ; but after a full 
survey of the person before him, and on hearing his voice, 
all his doubts are removed. It is indeed no other than 
his veritable friend and neighbor, whom he had supposed 
dead. His feeling is now quite changed from what it was 



86 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

when he entered the house. He is realizing an emotion 
of surprise. 

After reflecting a few moments, he begins to agitate 
in his mind the question how his friend escaped the wreck, 
and by what means he has safely returned. His emo- 
tion thus gradually subsides into that of wonder. Less 
violent than at first, it assumes a composed and deliber- 
ate type. 

Simultaneous emotions. — ^It is not necessary to take all 
the time supposed above, to bring before the mind the vari- 
ous exciting causes of emotion. The powers of conception 
and imagination may array them in very rapid succession. 
By the aid of these alone, while sitting solitary in his own 
apartment, a person may pass almost unconsciously from 
one emotion to another, and may sometimes become the 
subject of them all apparently at the same time. Thus 
the mind seems to resemble an organ or a violin, vibrat- 
ing at the same time under various impressions and giving 
out discordant notes. 

This is realized most vividly when one is listening to 
an oratorio, or attending a theatrical entertainment, or 
reading a highly wrought story, in which variously exciting 
scenes are mingled together. The mind is then sometimes 
almost tortured with conflicting emotions. Tears and 
smiles, agonizing terror, and convulsive laughter, the 
sublime and the ridiculous, seem to keep company in the 
soul, and to play together upon the accommodating coun- 
tenance. 

Conjlicting emotions. — Although these emotions may 
seem to be simultaneous, they are not strictly so. Two 
conflicting feelings cannot possess the mind at the same 
instant. To suppose the heart joyful and sorrowful, 
pleased and displeased, angry and complacent, at the 
same identical moment, is mueh the same as to suppose a 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWEES. 87 

body at the same time hot and cold, fluid and solid. But 
the alternations between these mental states may be im- 
perceptibly rapid. Generally, however, they are not so 
rapid as to elude our notice. The pantomime that would 
successfully play upon our passions, must regard this law 
of mental operation, and not attempt to excite two con- 
flicting emotions at the same time, nor to pass us sudden- 
ly from the one to the other. 

Thought is quicker than emotion. It usually takes a 
perceptible time to make the transition from sadness to 
joy, and from the calm emotion of beauty to one of sub- 
limity or terror, although there may be but a step between 
them. It is only under intense pressure, or some undue 
excitement, that very rapid alternations of emotion are 
realized. They are mostly undesirable. They often in- 
jure the sensibilities. Under their repeated influence, the 
mind sometimes loses its balance, and tends to insanity, 
in which state they culminate in their wildest forms. 



OBJECTIVE CAUSES OF THE VAEIOUS EMOTIONS. 

Ofbeauty, — '"We have already alluded to the objective 
causes of emotion, in defining the emotion itself. But 
they must be more fully noticed. We shall find that the 
world without us is an exact counterpart to the world 
within us ; the adaptation of the one to the other being a 
striking illustration of the wisdom and goodness of God. 
If there was no error in the construction of the universe, 
there was none in the constitution of the human mind, 
on the supposition that the one was made for the other ; 
for their mutual adaptation is perfect. 

As the emotion of beauty is healthful and may be con- 
tinually repeated with advantage to the mind, the Creator 
has provided largely for its habitual exercise. He has 



88 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

richly supplied it with daily food. All creation is replete 
with objective beauty. There is beauty of form, beauty 
of color, beauty of proportion, beauty of fitness, beauty of 
sound, beauty of motion, and beauty of all these combined. 
The changing seasons, as the year rolls round, bring with 
them almost every imaginable form of beauty. 

The human figure and countenance are beautiful ; so 
are the forms and movements of the animal tribes. "What 
more graceful than the horse or the doe, bounding over 
the fields, leaping the hedges, and darting through the 
opening forests ? All the birds of the air are beautiful in 
their plumage, their motions, and their music. Scarcely 
less beautiful are the finny tribes, sporting in the waters. 
All flowers are beautiful. So are the green fields, the 
bending corn, and the branching trees waving in the 
zephyrs. 

Every hue of solar light is beautiful, whether painted 
upon a flower, or upon an evening cloud, or a glorious 
heaven-spanning rainbow. The entire firmament, by day 
and by night, is a vast dome of ever-varying beauties ; 
while the earth beneath, as if vjdng with the heavens 
above, is also enameled all over with living beauty. And 
the works of art, responsive to those of nature, copy her 
fine pictures with exquisite skill, and sometimes almost 
transcend the original. 

Human hands rear imposing forms of architectural 
beauty around us ; adorn them and their occupants with 
beauties of the finest mould and finish, in which are blended 
all the colors of nature and of art ; furnish them with breath- 
ing canvas and speaking marble ; and then, with curious in- 
struments of their own framing, catch and combine all 
the tones and voices of the living creation, and pour them 
in endless varieties of enchanting music upon our delighted 
ears. Thus, through both the senses of sight and of hear- 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWEKS. 89 

ing, beauty is pouring from without upon the mind. The 
emotions thus awakened are almost as perpetual as our 
being, are never violent but always agreeable, and are 
therefore exhaustless sources of pleasure. 

Of grandeur and siibliinity. — Emotions of grandeur 
are pleasing, but they are so earnest and impressive that 
they soon exhaust the mind. The author, whose pages 
are crowded with passages of grandeur, intensely pleases 
us for a time ; but we are soon exhausted, and seek relief 
in more quiet beauties. JSTatural scenery whose features 
are strikingly grand, like those of the Alps, produces a 
similar effect ; and we are at length glad to emerge from 
it into scenes of more tranquil delight. When we con- 
template the vast rolling ocean, or the lofty azure vault 
of heaven, or the clear evening sky bespangled with 
stars, our first emotion is that of grandeur, mingled with 
that of beauty; and as the former gradually subsides, 
the calmer emotion of beauty takes the entire posses- 
sion. 

The emotion of sublimity, together with its cause, is 
much the same as that of grandeur ; but the latter has 
more respect to what is mighty, vast, boundless ; the for- 
mer, to what is lofty, incomprehensible and approaching 
the terrible. Grandeur is a term of greatness, sublimity 
of loftiness. The wide expanse is grand, the dizzy 
height sublime. Hence an object may have the attri- 
bute of grandeur without that of sublimity. A huge 
column is grand, but not always sublime. A kite, dart- 
ing upwards into the clouds, is sometimes sublime, but not 
grand. 

When we look upon the fire-sped car, dashing furious- 
ly along on its iron path, or gaze upon the stupendous 
cataract of Magara, or upon the wide, pathless ocean, we 
have an emotion of grandem-. But when we look upward 



90 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

to the summit of Mont Blanc, resting as a stupendous 
silvery dome in mid-lieaven ; or when we contemplate 
eternity ; or when we see a dark cloud rolling porten- 
tously up the skies and shooting down its lightnings ; we 
have an emotion of sublimity. These, also, like emotions 
of grandeur, are too powerful to be long endured. They 
are of a pleasing nature, but the pleasure is sometimes 
closely allied to pain. Beauty, grandeur, and sublimity 
are, however, frequently all combined in the same object. 

Of awe. — ^The emotion of awe is in many respects like 
the foregoing, but it has some peculiarities. There is in 
it much of dread, reverence, and astonishment. 

We are awed at Jehovah's exhibitions of sovereignty, 
justice, and majesty. When we contemplate a pestilence, 
sweeping over the land, and hurrying thousands to eter- 
nity ; or an earthquake, or volcano, engulfing and bury- 
ing up whole cities ; or a storm of fire reducing Sodom 
and Gomorrah, with all their inhabitants, to ashes ; or a 
deluge of water, burying the whole world in a common 
grave ; we then have an emotion of awe. 

In scarcely less degree, although, from humbler causes, 
we realize a similar emotion, when we read an account of 
a shipwreck, or of the burning of a steamboat, or of a rail- 
road catastrophe, by which many of our fellow-beings 
have been suddenly destroyed. We are awe-struck by 
such providential events. 

But it is not essential to this emotion that there should 
be the destruction or even endangering of life. We may 
" stand in awe " before exhibitions of Jehovah's power, 
when they contemplate our welfare, as well as when they 
are made in judgment, or to accomplish ends of justice. 
The children of Israel had emotions of awe beneath the 
burnings and quakings of Sinai, not because life was there- 
by sacrificed or endangered ; nor yet so much because they 



THE NATTTEAL MOTIVE POWEKS. 91 

regarded those events as judgments, or as ministers of jus- 
tice, as because they saw in them indications of their great 
Jehovah's presence and majesty. 

Of terror. — ^The emotion of terror is obvious and well 
defined. Every person has experienced it, and knows 
exactly what it is. Yet some have identified it with sub- 
limity, or have at least supposed them complements to 
each other. They are frequently united, but are still 
essentially distinct. The one often exists in full force 
without the other. 

The soaring of the eagle is sublime, but not terrible. 
On the other hand, a poisonous reptile, a mad dog, a 
stinging insect, has no sublimity, but it is terrible. While 
a thunder-storm is often both terrible and sublime. In 
general, we have emotions of terror from whatever endan- 
gers our personal safety. As such emotions are wholly 
painful, we incline to shun their causes as much as pos- 
sible. 

Of the ludicrous and the ridiculous. — As there is in us 
a constitutional susceptibility to an emotion of the ludi- 
crous, so there are causes without to excite it. ^Nature 
exhibits some curious freaks. The monkey performs 
laughable tricks, and some other irrational creatures make 
similar appeals to our sense of the ludicrous. 

But it is in the conduct of the human species, that we 
find most of that which excites the emotions in question. 
Many persons seem intent to render themselves ludicrous, 
and even ridiculous, in the eyes of their fellow-beings. 
An emotion of the ridiculous differs from that of the ludi- 
crous, as it is associated with a feeling of contempt. It is 
not merely the harlequin, who cuts his capers for a re- 
ward, nor the comedian, whose lyusiness it is to make men 
laugh, to whom we now refer. 

Kor need we repair to the great watering-places, and 



92 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

other resorts of fashionable folly, where it would seem to 
be the main object of some to appear ridiculous, to find 
exciting causes for this emotion. On every side we may 
witness those irrational displays of pride and vanity, which 
can hardly fail to provoke contempt. 

The struggles of the poor in aping the rich, and of the 
rich in outdoing each other's follies ; the tenacity with 
which the fashionable world often hug the very chains 
which they affect to despise ; the gilded miseries of high 
life, writhing beneath a smiling mask, received in eager 
barter for a good conscience and a contented mind ; the 
shallow tricks of brainless ambition to conceal its igno- 
rance and shine in borrowed splendors ; all these things 
are ridiculous enough, and have furnished lawful matter 
for the pen of the satirist in every age. 

But there is a brighter side to this picture, and one 
which greatly redeems humanity from the opprobrium 
under which the above views would place it. If human- 
ity exhibits much that is contemptible, it also exhibits 
much to be admired. Its noble self-sacrifices ; its deeds 
of chivalrous valor ; its triumphs of genius and art ; its 
patient endurings and determined endeavors in well-doing ; 
its free surrender of life itself upon the battle-field for its 
country, or at the stake for its conscience ; these are deeds 
which make humanity cease to appear contemptible, and 
which summon all om- most vivid emotions of beauty, 
sublimity and grandem*. 

CONCLUDING EEMAEKS ON NATURAL EMOTIONS. 

The brute creation have many of the emotions which 
we have described, but the absence of a rational nature 
restricts them to such as are merely animal. They have, 
in some sense, emotions of delight, of pain, of fear, of sur- 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 93 

prise, but those occasioned bj causes strictly rational, 
sestlietical, and moral, are without their province. 

The reader will now carefully notice the distinction 
between onotion^ and the other mental states and exercises 
which we have examined. 

Appetite occasions desire, the gratification of which is 
attended with an emotion of pleasure, and the refusal of 
which, with an emotion of pain. We thus see that the 
emotion is not the same thing as either the appetite or the 
desire. 

If our affection for a friend is severely simple and be- 
nevolent, it may be attended with little emotion, and is 
then usually a very sincere and pure affection. K it is 
attended with excess of emotion, it becomes a passion, and 
is then often less pure and reliable. There is then in it 
less of principle and more of excitement. 

And since affection is exercised only towards conscious 
beings, every emotion occasioned by inanimate objects, 
or mere exciting events, has no relation to affection, and 
is therefore either a mere emotion, or an attendant on 
some desire. 

Emotion is thus an accompaniment of the other mental 
states and exercises, serving to invigorate and enrich 
them, and is much the same as is understood by the com- 
mon word sjpirit. A man of lively spirits is one favored 
with a large endowment of the emotional element. He is 
easy to kindle, and may be equally so to burn out. His 
emotion may also be deep and calm ; but when it is so, 
it is by virtue of the depth and steadiness of the affec- 
tion or desire to which it pertains. Hence a man of 
little real affection and of feeble principle, may be on 
fire with emotion to day, and a spiritless corpse to-mor- 
row. 

Still, we must not fail to see that the susceptibility to 



94 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

emotion is a very important element of tlie mind, not only 
as related to the objects of this world, to which we have 
referred, but also to those of a higher world; having 
much to do with religions devotion, and often imparting 
wings to the spirit, with which it soars to mingle its rap- 
tures with the angels around God's throne. 



CHAPTEE YH. 



NATUKAL VOLITION" 



The feelings wMcL. we have thus far considered move us 
to act, and volition is the executive motive power which 
determines our conduct. The former are the breezes which 
fill the sails of the ship : the latter is the helm by which 
reason guides it. 

Thus, appetite occasions hankering for food ; volition 
decides to gratify or to refuse it. 

Affection loves a friend or hates an enemy ; volition 
determines to embrace or to shun him. 

Desire longs for wealth, fame, indulgence ; volition 
chooses or refuses to pursue it. 

"When volition merely executes an original impulse or 
pure instinct, it has no moral quality. Such are the voli- 
tions of the brute creation. "We have many such in com- 
mon with them. 

In this view, writers have distinguished between voli- 
tion and will ^ regarding the former as executing the 
mere impulses of nature, and the latter as related to rea- 
son and conscience. The acts of the former are then 
strictly instinctive ; while those of the latter are rational 



96 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

and responsible. This distinction lias been made by some 
German pbilosopbers. 

But so far as the power of volition is concerned, it is a 
distinction without a difference. In both cases it'is the 
power to will or choose ; nothing more nor less. In the 
one case it is a power to choose in view of rational mo- 
tives ; in the other, from the mere impulses of instinct. 

Let us now proceed to indicate those Abolitions which 
are strictly natural. 

We begin with those which execute the demands of 
appetite. When reason and conscience are developed, 
they should take these demands in charge, at least so far 
as not to allow them to transgress the rules of temperance 
and chastity ; but in the absence or the partial development 
of reason and conscience, the cravings of appetite are the 
only or the principal motives to prompt and to regulate 
the volitions to gratify it. Such are the volitions of in- 
fants and of all animals to take their food. 

The same is true of volitions prompted by mere natu- 
ral affection. We have seen that the parental, filial, fra- 
ternal, conjugal, and social affections, are all a part of our 
nature. Hence the simple volitions employed in their 
service, and with exclusive reference to their appropriate 
ends, are as destitute of moral quality as the affections 
which they subserve. Such are volitions to care for and 
caress our children, to dwell with our parents, to befriend 
our brothers and sisters, to live with oui' companions, to 
reciprocate social civilities and friendships. However val- 
uable and excellent these volitions, they imply nothing 
praiseworthy in us, but only in the Being who made us. 
God is the author of them, in the same sense that he is 
of those volitions of the brute which make it care for its 
young. 

The same is true of volitions to execute the nattiral de- 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 97 

sires. These are the desire of life, of happiness, of society, 
of knowledge, of esteem, of owning, and of power. So 
far as volitions are engaged only by these in seeking their 
appropriate ends, they are as characterless on our part as 
the desires themselves. Such are our primitive volitions 
to protect life, to secure happiness, to cultivate society, to 
pursue knowledge, to secure esteem, to have our own, and 
to possess power. To choose this is natural. It requires 
no conscience and no regard to what is right. While, 
therefore, as in the former case, such volitions imply no 
moral merit in us, but only in Him who made us, it is un- 
natural and wrong in us to withhold them. 

The same again is true of volitions prompted by natii- 
ral emotions. "We have emotions of beauty, of sublimity, 
of terror, &c., which induce volitions with direct reference 
to their ends. We instinctively prefer the beautiful, re- 
ject the ugly, and flee the terrible. The man who does 
not will to avoid a rattlesnake, to save himself from 
drowning, or to clear the track of an approaching car, is 
untrue to his nature. As in the cases above, there may 
be nothing in these volitions of a moral quality ; nothing 
done from a regard to duty ; but to do otherwise would 
be rebellion against nature, and therefore against God. 

Many of our volitions are prompted oiAjAnpart by 
natural impulses. Motives of a moral quality are often 
associated with them, and thus give the choice a mixed 
character. Our volitions may thus rise above or sink be- 
low the quality of mere naturalness, according as oui' 
natural impulses are associated with motives morally right 
or wi'ong. 

The mother, for example, instinctively loves her child. 
That love may blend with a feeling of duty, and thus re- 
ceive a moral element. A man has a natural desire for 
life. This may be associated with a feeling of moral obli- 
5 



98 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

gation to clierisli and protect it. A man naturally desires 
happiness and dreads misery. These feelings may com- 
bine with the dictates of conscience, to induce him to pur- 
sue a course which will save him from the one, and secure 
to him the other. 

We here see the perfect adaptation of our constitution 
to the high moral and religious purpose which it contem- 
plates. We see, demonstrably, that man was made for 
an end for which the animal was not made. The animal 
and the man, for important reasons, begin and move on 
together, so far as the earthly and the spiritual, the tem- 
poral and the eternal, can be united ; but with the natural 
impulses of man, may be associated the motives of moral- 
ity and the higher motives of religion ; and all, blending 
harmoniously together, conspire to the sarhe glorious end, 
the highest perfection and eternal happiness of his being. 

AGENCY OF VOLITION ON THE BODY. 

Let it be remembered that when we speak of the 
agency of volition, we mean the agency which the being 
himself exerts by means of willing. All the direct execu- 
tive power which a person has over his body, he exerts 
by his will. Here is a large class of volitions purely 
natural. 

It is no part of our present object to explain the mys- 
terious connection between the will and the muscles, or 
to show how the one moves the other. We are here con- 
cerned only with the fact. 

ITow the tongue is silent. The person wills to speak, 
and instantly it obeys. Now the eye is shut. The person 
wills to see, and quick as thought the eyelids open. 

His hand is holding a pen in the act of writing. A 
friend enters the room and he wills t^ embrace him. In 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 99 

a moment the pen is dropped, and his hand grasps that of 
his friend. 

He is sitting in his study, absorbed with thought. It 
occurs to him that the mail has arrived, by which he ex- 
pects a letter. He wills to go for it, and is immediately 
on the way. But while on the way, he thinks of a letter 
left in his study, which must now be mailed. He wills 
to return for it. Forthwith the body turns upon its heel, 
and is on the way back to the study. 

Such is the power of volition on the body. It lifts it 
up from the recumbent state, and pulls, turns, and twists 
it, at pleasure, in every imaginable direction. The state- 
ly step of the chieftain, the graceful movements of the 
lady in the drawing-room, the antics of the school-boy, the 
capers of the clown, are all due to the same subtle and 
mighty agency of the will. 

And this voluntary control over the body is shared 
with man by the brute creation. The movements of every 
reptile, and of every beast upon the earth, of all the fishes 
that sport in the waters, of all the birds that cut the air, 
are due to this same mysterious agency. 

As all such volitions accomplish their ends in the 
movements they respect, they are as natural as the im- 
pulses which prompt them. In brutes they must hejmre- 
ly natural ; for brutes have no moral nature. But the 
impulses which prompt them in man, may be associated 
with those having moral quality. 

It is natural for a man to choose to rise up and exert 
himself, when he has reposed long enough. He may also 
choose to do so from a sense of duty. It is natural for 
the hungry and thirsty man, as it is for the brute, to 
choose to eat and drink ; but the man may also " eat or 
drink," as the brute cannot, " to the glory of God." Thus 
while the brute accomplishes its mission by obeying only 



100 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

its natural impulses, man does not accomplish his, but by 
obeying also the dictates of his rational nature. 

MOVEMENTS PAETLY INVOLILN^TAKY. 

The movements of the bodily members are involun- 
tary, semi-voluntary, and voluntary. The involuntary 
movements are, the beating of the heart, the flowing of the 
blood, and the action of the secretory organs. Over these 
our volition has no direct control. Our life would be a 
laborious business indeed, if we were obliged to attend 
unremittingly, by day and by night, to these movements. 

The semi-voluntary movements are, those of the lungs, 
eyes, and some other organs. Over these we have a par- 
tial voluntary control. Did these depend wholly upon the 
activity of the will, we couM not be relieved from attend- 
ing to them so as to sleep at night ; and the perpetual 
service demanded would be a burden by day. 

On the other hand, if we had no voluntary control 
over them, we should suffer great inconvenience. K we 
could not regulate our own breath, nor open and shut our 
eyes at pleasure, both our comfort and safety would be 
taken from us. We cannot, therefore, fail to see the 
divine wisdom of this arrangement. 

The movements which are wholly voluntary, are those 
of the limbs and external members, and of the body as a 
whole. Thus volition is man's natural and sole power, 
with which to direct and manage his physical system. 
External force and the influence of disease apart, he 
moves his body as he wills. 

AGENCY OF VOLITION OVEK THE INTELLECTIVE POWEES. 

Although we are passive in sensations, volition is con- 
cerned in occasioning them. K food is in a person's 



THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS. 101 

mouth, lie experiences from it an involuntary sensation ; 
but volition placed the food there. If we visit a theatri- 
cal entertainment, we realize from it a variety of sensa- 
tions, which put the intellect in action, but we are volun- 
tary in going there. Thus many of our sensations, and of 
course the intellectual activity resulting from them, come 
of our will. 

Those powers of mind which the brute creation share 
in part with us, are so dependent upon the will, that 
unless we exert its vigilance to elevate and guide their ope- 
rations, they will never rise much above their correspond- 
ing powers in the mere animal. Hence a most important 
part of education consists in bringing them under a steady 
and determined voluntary control. 

And even those higher faculties which so distinguish 
us from brutes, are true and faithful to their objects only 
as a true and faithful will makes them so. The judgment 
itself, which we are prone to think under the sublime sway 
of pure evidence, is sometimes sadly controlled by a per- 
verse will. And imagination also, the bird of angel- 
wing, which outspeeds the lightning, and has more than 
magic power to create airy worlds in the twinkling of an 
eye, can do little else than flutter, until the will bids her go. 

Thus dependent upon man's voluntary agency, are the 
movements of his physical and of his intellectual powers. 
He uses his body and his intellect, mostly, as he wills to 
do. A large proportion of the volitions concerned in 
these movements, as we have seen, are merely natural. 

Those of them which have moral quality, or for which 
we are morally responsible, will be indicated in a subse- 
quent part of the volume. 



PART II. 

THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 



CHAPTEE I. 



CONSCIENCE 



Man alone of all creatures upon earth is capable of moral 
action. He alone realizes what is indicated by the word 
ought. The brute is moved by instinctive appetites, af- 
fections, desires, emotions, and so also is man, to a certain 
extent. Man thns puts forth many characterless actions, 
as we have seen, in common with the ii-rational creation ; 
but he is also the subject of a higher motive, a regard to 
duty, which imparts moral quality to his actions. 

"We hence view the same act very differently, as per- 
formed by a brute, or by a human being. If the poor 
brute kills her young, we pity her ; but if the mother, fa- 
vored with enlightened reason, kills hers, we hlame her. 
We never speak of the duty of the brute. We never say 
it ought to do so and so ; but we say this emphatically of 
all rational beings. 



104 MOEAi PHILOSOPHY. 

Terms indicating duty are found in ail languages, 
proving the universality of the idea itself and the impor- 
tance attached to it. Thns the feeling of moral obligation 
is coextensive with onr race. All rational beings know, 
as soon as reason operates, that there is a right and a wrong 
in hmnan action, and that they ought to refrain from the 
one and do the other. 

The intellect is concerned in ascertaining duty ; the 
susceptibility of conscience, true to its demand, is con- 
cerned in securing obedience to it. The mtellect takes the 
lead. The senses act first, giving to the inind its first in- 
dividual ideas, and arousing it to general activity. The 
power of purely intuitive, as well as sentient perception, 
is thus excited.* 

What we call intuition^ is included in what some Ger- 
man philosophers call the pure reason^ (Ger. Hein Ver- 
nu77ift, Gr. \6yo^, Lat. ratio, Fr. raison,) and is possessed 
by rational beings only, none of the brute creation having 
any part in it. Jacobi and others term it rational intuition, 
{rationale Anschauung.) It is by this that we obtain our 
first general ideas, through which we systematize individual 
ideas furnished by the senses, and comprehend their philo- 

* For the sake of brevity and convenience, I use tte term percepiion to in- 
dicate both rational and sentient cognizance, although it is usnaUy restricted 
in philosophy to the latter. Several of the German philosophers, Fichte, 
Schelling, and others, employ intuition to designate the cognition of the abso- 
lute, as opposed to the conception of it. While others, such as Leibnitz, Ja- 
cobi, Descartes, and Locke, denote by it the power of immediately apprehend- 
ing the relations of subject and predicate iu what are called self-evident pro- 
positions. But Sir William Hamilton applies the term intuitive in a wider 
sense, as related to all direct knowledges, whether sentient or strictly rational. 
To avoid these ambiguities and save repetition, I shall throughout use the 
term perception to denote man's abihty to cognize or know, or the act or re- 
sult of cognizing, both as a rational and a sentient being. Whether the mind 
comes into possession of its knowledge by pure intuition, or by sensation, or 
by argument and reflection, is all the same in a moral view. 



THE EATIONAJL MOTIVE POWERS. 105 

sopliical relations. The truths thus obtained are called 
first jprinciples. Known intuitively, they require no proof. 
They are often termed axioms. 

First principles are mathematical, metaphysical, or 
moral ; but they are all apprehended by the same rational 
faculty. It is always the same reason or intuition, al- 
though directed to different kinds of truth. In neither 
case does reason feel the truth, for its office is simply 
knowing, not feeling. The feeling is furnished by another 
faculty. 

The power of mental feeling, like that of perception, 
is suited to its various objects. Thus the human soul is 
endowed with various susceptibilities, adapted to its va- 
rious cognitions. The cognition of a mathematical, or of 
a metaphysical, or of an sesthetical, or of a moral truth, 
appeals to our susceptibility to that particular kind of 
truth, and excites one or another feeling according to the 
natm-e of the truth perceived. 

We have previously noticed the mutual relations of the 
intellective and the motive powers, and have said that, 
other things equal, the clearer the perception the more 
vivid will be the feeling, and the keener and more deli- 
cate the feeling, the clearer will be the perception. The 
relation of the susceptibility of conscience to the perception 
of moral truth, is like that of the susceptibility of taste to 
the perception of msthetical truth. Conscience quickens 
the rational spirit to discern between right and wrong, 
as the sensibility of taste quickens it to discern between 
beauty and deformity. 

Our only intuitive perceptions with which the suscep- 
tibility of conscience is associated, are those which relate 
to moral truths. Other feelings attend other perceptions ; 
here is the exclusive dominion of conscience. It must 
also be remembered that intuition, when directed to moral 



106 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

truths, as well as when directed to others, is severely re- 
stricted to first principles. Bejond these, therefore, the 
admonitions of conscience will natm-ally differ, according 
as minds are differently taught. 

Intuition or unaided reason alone cannot inform us re- 
specting particular duties, nor the moral quality of specific 
actions. It cannot inform us, for instance, whether infan- 
ticide and parricide are right ; whether a man ought to 
have many wives, or only one, or indeed whether the 
marriage covenant should exist at all ; whether any day 
of the week, or any portion of time whatever, should be 
kept as especially sacred ; whether we ought to worship 
one God, or a plurality of gods ; whether we should con- 
duct with reference to an interest beyond the grave, or 
solely with reference to an interest in this life ; whether 
we should practise penance for our misdeeds, and inflict 
suff'erings and perhaps death upon our persons ; whether 
we should support parental and civil government, or 
whether all government is oppression; whether disputes 
should be settled by duelling, &c., &c. 

All such questions, important and eminently practical 
as they are, involving morality in the most vital points, 
are yet not to be decided by the unaided glances of reason. 
Indeed the fact that they are questions, throws them at 
once out of the pale of intuition ; for respecting what we 
learn by intuition no question can be raised. 

Here then we see the need of instruction in morals 
and religion, as well as in other departments of knowl- 
edge. AH the specific truths of moral science are to be 
learned by a process of education, as truly as are all the 
specific truths of natural science. "We can no more be 
sound and well furnished moralists without education, than 
we can be sound and well furnished mathematicians without 
it. In each case, we start with only first principles. Upon 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 107 

these we must erect the superstructure, by applying to 
them, in scientific arrangements, their numerous subordi- 
nate specific truths. This is work for education. Hence 
the necessity for suitable schools, books, teaching, parental 
guidance, preaching, correct example, good laws, and just 
government, rightly to enlighten and form the conscience of 
the rising race. 

We have only to look where these are not enjoyed, 
to- see little else than conscience misguided and morals 
prostrated. Let us then divest ourselves of all fanatical 
conceits respecting the " inward light," the " sufficient 
guide," the " divinity in man," the " sovereign arbiter;" 
these are pleasant rhetorical flourishes, but they do not 
answer the purpose where scientific truth and not poetry 
is the object. 

DEFINITION OF CONSCIENCE. 

Conscience, as mentioned in the Bible and generally 
understood, is not a single primitive faculty. It includes 
both the power of perception, and a susceptibility to a i^e- 
culisir feeling. But the power of perception is always the 
same, to whatever truths it may be directed. To suppose 
that a man has two perceiving faculties, one for one kind 
of truth, and another for another kind, is as preposterous 
as to suppose that he is two persons. He is both a ra- 
tional and a sentient being, and hence he perceives in 
various ways, intuitively and through the senses, but his 
power to perceive is ever one and the same. The activity 
of his cognitive or discerning power is always assumed, 
when we speak of the operations of conscience. He may 
know without feeling, but he cannot feel without know- 
ing. "We know that we feel, and we feel that we know. 
By one act of consciousness, we know our feeling and we 
feel our knowledge. Thus every legitimate operation of 



108 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

conscience involves two psychological elements, the cog- 
nitive and the motive, affirmed in one and the same de- 
liverance of the personal consciousness. 

But while all the susceptibilities of the soul are depen- 
dent upon the intellect, there is one only, which, as united 
and cooperating with it, constitutes the distinguishing and 
sublime faculty of conscience. It is this which we are 
now to examine. 

The Latin word conscientia, and the Greek a\sv€ih7]cn^, 
used in the Bible, denote an inward susceptibility to or real- 
ization of the mind's perceptions. Thus a man's intellect 
jperceives the beauty of an object, and his susceptibility 
to the beautiful makes him realize it. He thus not only 
hnows it, but }iq feels it. The former is speculative knowl- 
edge ; the latter is experimental. As both of these men- 
tal acts respect the same objective fact, the former is the 
scientia of it, the latter the conscientia of it. The one 
confirms the other. 

Precisely thus a man's vntQUQct perceives^ and his con- 
science makes \am.feel>^ that is, it makes him experimentally 
know, the distinction between right and wrong. "We have 
other specific terms by which to indicate the other suscep- 
tibilities, but the most emphatic was employed by the sa- 
cred writers, and by the ancients generally, to indicate the 
most characteristic and important of them all. 

Conscience, then, including the power of perception, is 
man's susceptibility to moral distinctions. It is a facul- 
ty implanted in our mental constitution expressly to make 
Vi^feel the distinction between moral truth and falsehood, 
and between right and wrong action, and thus to incite 
us to duty. It was not designed to go hefore reason, or to 
act independently of it, to teach us what is true and right, 
but to be always strictly in its service. 

Until the mind is instructed in specific truths and du- 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 109 

ties, the admonitions of conscience are reliable only within 
the limits of intuitive truths or first principles. Beyond 
these, its impulses are blind and fanatical. It must be 
kept strictly in school to reason, as taught by God and by 
experience ; for it belongs to our impulsive nature, and we 
were made to be guided by enlightened reason, and not by 
blind impulse. 

That which distinguishes the susc-eptibility of con- 
science from all other susceptibilities, is its exclusive inter- 
est in what pertains to the person's own conduct as morally 
right or wrong. It has nothing to do with the actions of 
others, nor yet those of one's self, except as they are re- 
lated to his personal duty. In addition to this, the feeling 
of obligation, and the feeling of pleasure and of pain, 
which it imparts, are unliTce any other. I^o other feeling 
is like that of moral obligation ; no other ^<2m is like that 
which arises from a consciousness of having done wrong ; no 
o\h.QY pleasure is like that which arises from a consciousness 
of having done right. It is not a difference in mere degree, 
but in Tcind. Our appeal here is to every man's experience. 

CONSCIENCE HAS THREE FUNCTIONS. 

Considered as a motive power, conscience is both pas- 
sive and active ; a susceptibility and an impulse. Besides 
prompting the rational spirit to discern between right 
and wrong, it has three functions., or, in other words, there 
are three ways in which it incites us to do right. It 
makes us feel that we ought to do so ; it affords us a feel- 
ing of self-approval, when we have done so ; it inflicts 
upon us a painful feeling of self-reproach, when we have 
not done so. 

The first feeling {^prospective. It is one that we have 
in view of something to he done. The last two are retro* 
spective. They are feelings which we realize in view of 



W 



110 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

sometliiiig wMcli we have done. The present moment is 
but a point ; hence, all actions upon which we deliberate, 
must precede or follow the deliberation. These three 
functions of conscience require particular explanation. 

FIRST FinsrCTION OF CONSCIENCE. 

Conscience makes us feel that we ought to do what we 
'believe to he right. In the same connection we may say, 
that it makes us feel that we ought not to do what we be- 
lieve to be wrong. Both amount to the same thing ; for, 
failing to do right, is doing wi'ong. 

A boy sees tempting fruit in a neighbor's garden. He 
knows that it would be wrong to steal it. !N"ow, whether 
we say, his conscience admonishes him that it is right to 
let it alone, or that it is wrong to steal it, om- meaning is 
of course the same. 

On returning from the bank, a man finds that the teller 
has accidentally counted to him a ten dollar note too 
much. We mean the same, whether we say, his conscience 
reminds him that he ought to return it, or, that it would 
be wrong not to do so. 

Suppose a man's mind enlightened by Christianity re- 
specting the being and perfections of Grod. He then per- 
ceives it to be right for him to render to that glorious 
Being his supreme homage. He perceives it to be wrong 
not to do so. This perception is attended with an admo- 
nition of conscience, a feeling of obligation. K the con- 
science is in a normal condition, the intensity of its admo- 
nition, that is, the vividness of the feeling of obligation, 
will be in proportion to the clearness and fulness of the per- 
ception. 

But men may have " their conscience seared with a 
hot iron,"* while their intellective faculty is in good 

* 1 Tim. 4 : 2. 



THE KATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. HI 

condition, and their perception of truth and duty is clear. 
They ma j perceive with great distinctness what they ought 
to do ; and yet thi-ough defect of conscience, from its be- 
ing in a seared or torpid state, they may be entirely indif- 
ferent about doing it. 

The case here is the same ; whether our views of duty 
are intuitive, or are obtained by an educational process. 
In either case, the perception of what is right may be as 
bright as a sunbeam, while the conscience may be as un- 
feeling in regard to it as marble. 

But if conscience is tender and quick, the perception 
of a duty to be performed instantly excites the feeling of 
obligation ; this feeling tends to render the perception 
more distinct ; thus, a reciprocity of action, and an inti- 
mate alliance is established between them. A good man's 
susceptibility to obligation, and his perception of truth 
and duty, are ever harmoniously one in their object and 
action. This is doubtless the reason why popular writers 
have often so confounded the intellective and the motive 
in conscience, as to consider them psychologically one 
and the same primitive faculty, which they have called a 
moral sense. 

SECOOT) FTJlfCTION OF CONSCIENCE. 

The second function of conscience is, to afford us a 
delightful feeling of selfwpproval when we ha/ce done what 
we 'believe to he right. This feeling is especially vivid, af- 
ter a successful encounter with a strong and dangerous 
temptation to do wrong. When a severe struggle has 
been had, and a triumph has been won on the side of 
virtue, the feeling of satisfaction is peculiarly rich and de- 
HghtfuL 

It is needless to attempt to analyze or to define this 
feeling. To know it, we must experience it. It was evi- 



112 MORAI. PHILOSOPHY. 

dentlj designed to be a token of approbation from tbe 
Being who made ns ; a present reward of virtue, or rather, 
a foretaste of the richer reward awaiting it hereafter. It 
is a kind of first fruit of goodness. It was meant to en- 
courage us to joersevere in the conflict with temptation, 
and thus to strengthen and establish every right principle. 
It is not a feeling of vain exultation. It is humble and 
grateful, but joyous and inspiring. The joy of Caesar, 
when marching in triumph up the Appian Way, is not to 
be compared with it. 

But it is not merely the thrill of pleasure imparted by 
conscience after signal victories over temptation, that we 
should notice. The calm and settled peace, the prevail- 
ing satisfaction, resulting from a good conscience faithfully 
obeyed, is a perpetual feast, a daily and hourly luxury, 
which none but the upright in heart can realize. De- 
prived of conscience, even if capable of rational conduct, 
man would be for ever deprived of this angelic luxury. 

THIED FUNCTION OF CONSCIENCE. 

The third function of conscience is, to injUct upon us a 
peculiar painful feeling^ when we have done what we Re- 
lieve to he wrong. When the conscience is not seared, 
reflecting upon wrong conduct of which we have been 
guilty, is invariably attended with this feeling. It is 
termed remorse. It is designed, in part, as a present pun- 
ishment for misdoing, or rather as an admonition of its 
guilt, and of the fearful ultimate consequences to which it 
tends. It is thus evidently meant to warn us against re- 
peating the act. 

It is useless to attempt a definition of remorse. Dic- 
tionaries define it, the keen pain or anguish excited by a 
sense of guilt. But as we have keen pain and anguish 



THE KATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 113 

from other sources, this definition only refers ns to its 
cause ; thus leaving every person to learn, from his own 
experience, what the pain and anguish actually are. 

The rebuke of offended conscience is not like grief, 
sorrow, repentance ; it is not like the pain of bereave- 
ments, loss, or disappointment ; neither is it mere regret, 
nor a sense of danger. Some of these feelings, especially 
the last two, usually accompany it, but they may exist 
without it. As it cannot be defined, like every other prim- 
itive feeling, it can be known only as it is experienced. 

Even the little child who disobeys his mother, or does 
other things which he knows to be wrong, has the painful 
feeling of a disturbed conscience. The young man rightly 
taught at home, who, when removed from parental watch- 
fulness, begins to venture upon vicious indulgences, some- 
times passes many a sleepless night in painful reflections 
upon his conduct. 

It is important to observe, that the retributions of con- 
science are by no means always immediately consequent 
upon wrong doing. They are sometimes delayed, espe- 
cially in the case of hardened transgressors, for months 
and for years. 

The law of the operation of conscience seems to be 
this. In the early stages of transgression, its rebukes are 
prompt and earnest ; but if these are disregarded, its sen- 
sibility gradually becomes less active, and, like the deep 
fires of a volcano when crusted over at the top, prepare 
for a tremendous outburst at a future time. 

Thus the libertine, the thief, the defrauder, the mur- 
derei-, has sometimes gone on for a series of years, realiz- 
ing, especially during the latter part of his career, but 
feeble, if any, compunctions of conscience. 

He is thus greatly emboldened in crime. " Because 
sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily^ 



> 



114 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

thefrefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them 
to do evil." * 

Retribution at length overtakes the guilty man. Per- 
haps the civil arm arrests him, and places him in circum- 
stances to reflect upon his ways. His feelings are at first 
mostly those of regret and chagrin. But conscience is at 
length aroused. His guilt now stares him in the face, and 
darts its fiery stings into his inmost spirit. Remorse^ re- 
lentless and agonizing, makes him its prey, and drags him 
to the gates of despair. 

Let no one, then, who offends his conscience, hope to 
escape its retributions. They may be slow, but they are 
sure ; and when they come, they will be all the more se- 
vere for the delay ; for they will find greatly enhanced 
guilt. Sooner or later, they will certainly overtake him, 
and they will be in proportion to his crimes. But there 
will not have been made an even barter of pleasure for pain. 
Far, very far from it. All the pleasures of vice will prove 
at last to have been as nothing, compared with those mer- 
ciless and bitter pangs, which an avenging and relentless 
conscience will justly inflict. 

Such are the threefold functions of conscience, in ac- 
complishing the great moral end for which it was given 
us. It is to our moral and religious interests what the de- 
sire of life is to our existence. The former would induce 
us to prize and protect character, as the latter would to 
prize and protect life. It is an original faculty. This 
susceptibihty, as truly as the discerning intellect, with all 
its fearful power to bless and to torment us, is a part of 
our mental constitution, and, like the soul itself, imper- 
ishable. It is doubtless one of the mightiest agents cre- 
ated by God, by which "he will render to every man 
according to his deeds." 

*EccL8: 11. 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWEES. 115 

As conscience includes the rational power to discern, 
with the susceptibility to feel our moral obligations, we 
are to regard its enlightened decisions as the will of God. 
The rule of duty thus enjoined, or what is called the law 
of conscience, is what we understand by the law of God 
written"in the hearts of men. " For when the Gentiles, 
which have not the law, do by nature the things contained 
in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto them- 
selves ; which show the work of the law written in their 
hearts, their conscience also bearing witness, and their 
thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one 
another." * 

* Rom. 2 : 14-16. 



CHAPTEE n. 

VARIOUS VIEWS OF CONSCIENCE. 

Having in the previous chapter stated what we believe 
to be the true nature and functions of conscience, it is due 
to the subject to say that other views have been advocated. 
It is our present object to examine them. Those deserv- 
ing of particular notice maj be reduced to two, that which 
regards conscience as a moral judgment^ and that which 
regards it as a moral sense. The undefined notions of an 
" inward light " and of a '' divinity within," are too vague 
and mystical to be seriously noticed ; for they amount to 
little else than rhetorical flourishes. 

CONSCIENCE NOT A MORAL JUDGMENT. 

Some have supposed conscience nothing more than 
judgment applied to moral subjects. They hence call it 
the moral judgment. They appeal to its decisions on 
moral subjects, as we appeal to the decisions of the natu- 
ral judgment on other subjects. In this view, it is to de- 
cide upon questions of right and wrong, just as the natural 
judgment is to decide upon questions of law, upon evi- 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWEES. 117 

dence in courts, upon tlie quality of merchandise, or upon 
the prospects of the market. Considering the influence 
of passion and prejudice upon judgment, this view puts 
all morality out upon a shoreless sea, to be tossed about 
for ever by the caprices of wind and tide. 

But conscience is not mere judgment, as we have seen 
in the previous chapter, for it includes a susG&pWbility ; 
and this susceptibility is peculiar, and belongs exclusively 
to conscience. Moreover, the intellective powers are not 
altered by the nature of their subjects. The powers of 
perception, of memory, of judgment, are the same, whether 
employed upon natural or upon moral subjects. To main- 
tain, then, that conscience is only the judgment applied to 
moral subjects, is to resolve it into another faculty, and 
thus virtually annihilate it. 

CONSCIENCE NOT A MOEAL SENSE. 

Some authors have considered conscience a literal 
moral sense^ sustaining the same relation to moral facts or 
truths which the other senses do to those of nature, and 
also imparting appropriate feelings respecting them. It 
will be observed, that in this view conscience is Sijpercei/v- 
ing faculty, distinct from that with which we perceive 
natural truths; and that it also performs two distinct 
offices, offices belonging to two different powers of mind, 
that oi jpercej^tion and that oi feeling. Tliis must certain- 
ly be a very strange faculty, an anomaly in the mental 
constitution. 

The importance of the subject, and the deference due 
to those who have advocated this view, make it our duty 
to give it a careful examination. 

To make our discussion as concise as possible, instead 
of quoting from various books, we will refer to such only 



Il8 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

as are in tlie hands of onr readers generally, and are in- 
ferior to none in claims to our attention. Tliey clearly 
represent the views of the class. 

"By conscience, or the moral sense, is meant that 
faculty by which we discern the moral quality of actions, 
and by which we are capable of certain affections in re- 
spect to this quality." * * -J?- " y^Q ^q ^ot say, that all 
men discern this quality with equal accuracy, any more 
than that they all see with equal distinctness : but we say 
that all men perceive it in some actions ; and that there 
is a multitude of cases in which their perceptions of it 
will be found universally to agree." * 

It is here asserted, that conscience is a " moral sense ; " 
that faculty by which men " discern the moral quality of 
actions ; " and that " there is a multitude of cases in which 
their perceptions of it will be found universally to agree." 
But then there is another multitude of cases, in which they 
do not agree ; and who shall decide which is right ? 

It is claimed that conscience is a " moral sense," sus- 
taining the same relation to facts in morals that the other 
senses do to facts in nature. But is it so ? Let us look 
critically at this point. 

The sense of sight is our sole and undisputed teacher 
in respect to colors. From its decisions there is no appeal. 
The same is true of the sense of smell, in relation to odors ; 
of the sense of taste, in relation to flavors ; of the sense of 
hearing, in relation to sounds ; of the sense of touch, in 
relation to resistant bodies. Each sense is supreme um- 
pire in its dominion. 'No instruction, no laws, no change 
of country or society, no religion, no amount of knowl- 
edge from other sources, can affect its decisions. They 
are absolutely fixed and reliable. 

*Wayland'8 Moral Science, p. 49. 



THE EATIONAL MOTIVE POWEES. 119 

If then conscience were a sense, like tiie above, by 
which to discern the moral quality of actions, its decisions, 
like those of the above senses, would also be absolutely 
fixed and reliable. As there is no appeal from the sense 
of sight in relation to colors, no appeal from the sense of 
taste in relation to flavors, so there could be no appeal 
from the sense of conscience in relation to morals. To 
suppose instruction to avail to correct the errors of the 
sense of conscience in regard to moral actions, would be 
as preposterous as to suppose it to avail to correct the er- 
rors of the sense of sight in regard to colors, or the errors 
of the sense of smell in regard to odors. 

Men TRust then infallibly agree respecting the decisions 
of this moral sense, not only in '' a multitude of cases," but 
in all cases where moral action is the object. Do not men 
of all nations, all religions, all kinds and degrees of learn- 
ing, agree as to all things decided by the senses ? They 
do. Why ? Because the senses were given to teach us 
in regard to these things ; and they accomplish their mis- 
sion. But do men agree thus in regard to the moral 
quality of actions? Far from it. The Christian's con- 
science stings him with remorse, for doing what the pagan 
approves ; and the pagan's conscience stings him with re- 
morse, for doing what the Christian approves. Their con- 
sciences are essentially the same, but their views of right 
and wrong, owing to difference of education, are widely 
different. Education, however, does not thus affect the 
decisions rendered by the senses. 

It may be said, the pagan's conscience is " defiled." 
This is no doubt sadly true ; but it does not meet the diffi- 
culty. So the pagan may say, the Christian's conscience 
is defiled ; and who shall decide between them ? Who 
ever heard of a pagan's senses discerning things so differ- 
ently from those of the Christian ? No difference of educa- 



120 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

tion nor of character can alter the decisions of the senses, 
in reference to their several appropriate objects. The pa- 
gan's sense of sight reveals to him all colors, his sense of 
taste reveals to him all flavors, just as the Christian's do 
to him. 

The reason, then, why men differ respecting the moral 
qualities of actions, is perfectly obvious. A man in one 
nation justifies idolatry, polygamy, infanticide, and a man 
in another nation condemns them, not because conscience 
is not the same faculty in all, but because it is not a dis- 
tinct discerning sense^ and cannot teach us as the senses 
do, and because these men have been differently taught. 

There is evil in ascribing too much to conscience, as 
well as too little. By assigning to it duties which it was 
not intended to perform, and to which it is inadequate, we 
make men sceptical, on the one hand, because they see 
that it does not do what is ascribed to it ; or fanatical, on 
the other, because they mistake for its sacred admonitions 
the blind promptings of a perverse and obstinate self-will. 
Few men betray a depravity more offensive and hopeless, 
than those laboring under such unhappy delusions. 

PLAUSIBLE ANSWER TO THE ABOVE. 

But it is said by the advocates of the moral sense 
scheme, that the senses teach us only in appropriate cir- 
cumstances. The sense of sight, for instance, does not dis- 
cern colors in the absence of light. So of conscience. 
In order to discern moral qualities, it must have moral 
light. Hence the fact that the benighted heathen do not 
clearly discern moral qualities, only proves that they are 
in comparative moral darkness.* 

This analogy is plausible, but not just. It fails in the 
material point. So far as their intuitive perceptions go, 

* See Stewart, p. 122. 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWEES. 121 

the untaught heathen apprehend moral truths as Chris- 
tians do. Having no written law, they are a law unto 
themselves. " Axioms in mathematics, principles in phi- 
losophy, rights in morals, are the same to all minds, when 
seen in the same grounds." * But what is thus known in 
morals, like a mathematical axiom, by pure intuition, does 
not of course depend upon the affirmation of a " sense." 
The power to discern is, however, always one and the same, 
whether directed to physical, mathematical, or moral 
truths.f 

We therefore proceed to notice what we learn through 
the medium and testimony of sense. And here it matters 
not whether it be what is termed an outer or an inner 
sense ; since all the senses sustain the same relation to the 
perceiving mind, and are subject to the same essential 
law. They are all the mind's teachers, and they teach it 
by sensation. 

In the light of day, all men of sound organs perceive 
colors alike. They also perceive alike by all their other 
senses, when the senses are directed to their appropriate 
objects. It is not true that their perceptions agree only 
" in a multitude of cases." They so entirely agree, in all 
cases, that the several kinds of knowledge taught us by 
the several senses are reduced to exact systems, and are 
registered in books of science among the most indisputa- 
ble facts. K any one of a man's senses seems to teach him 

* Hickok's Moral Science, p. 55. 

t " We have not one facrJty by which we discern physical truths, and 
another hy which we judge of mathematical theories, and another for mat- 
ters of taste, but all these are the one and the same understanding, exer- 
cised on different subjects. Accordingly, when moral qualities are the objects 
of our contemplation, it is not a different faculty from the reason or under- 
standing which thinks and judges, but the same exercised on other subjects ; 
and the only difference is in the objects." — Alexandek's Outlines of Moral 
Science, p. 14. 

6 



122 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

otherwise, lie is regarded as having a disordered intellect, 
or a diseased organ, and so his case has no effect npon the 
general conclusions of mankind. 

But it is quite otherwise with conscience. There is not 
only a Pagan conscience, a Mahommedan conscience, and 
a Christian conscience, but even the Christian conscience 
decides very differently in different men. Under the same 
Christian light, one man condemns slavery, while another 
approves it ; one man condemns oath-taking, while another 
approves it ; one man condemns all wars, while another 
justifies those of self-defence ; one man condemns capital 
punishments, while another upholds them ; and so it goes. 
Yet all these men are, in the judgment of true charity, alike 
conscientious in their views. 

We hence see that while the senses, in their several 
appropriate spheres, are infallible teachers and guides, 
conscience, apart from the light of reason and instruction, 
is no guide at all. If it were a moral sense^ designed to 
teach us moral truths, as the other senses teach us other 
truths, we should be obliged to admit an utter failure in 
this part of our mental constitution. But we are driven 
to no such conclusion. We believe that the varying de- 
cisions of the so-called moral sense, are mere acts oi judg- 
ment in cases of ethical casuistry. The judgment may be 
affected by prejudice, interest, education, idiosyncrasy; 
but these cannot affect the decisions rendered by the 
senses. 

impokta:s'ce of the above distinction. 

The distinction between these two views of conscience 
is of great practical importance. According to the view 
which we have advocated, conscience was not designed 
to go before and teach us, as the senses do, but must it- 
self be taught. As a susceptibility, it is entirely depend- 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 123 

ent upon tlie perceptions of the intellect ; as a discerning 
faculty, it is that intellect itself, and is subject to all the 
necessities of intellectual discipline and culture. It is ig- 
norant or enlightened, erring or true, according to its edu- 
cation. Taking this view, an accountable being com- 
mences his moral career with the first lesson of true wis- 
dom ; the lesson of humility. He takes the submissive 
attitude of a pupil. 

The intuitions of his unaided reason only reveal to him 
his ignorance, and the first principles of his duty. He 
sees that he has every thing to learn. He turns the eye 
of his mind in all directions, seeking light. Thus docile 
and expectant, he receives instruction from the light of 
natm^e, from providential events, from the admonitions of 
wise and good men, from the experience of past ages, and 
above all, from the Word of God. All these conspire to 
render his perceptions of truth and duty clear, accurate, 
and comprehensive, and the sensibility of his conscience 
discriminating, just, and effective. He is thus forming a 
character of enlightened and high excellence. 

According to the other view, the whole course is the- 
oretically reversed. Conscience is a literal moral sense. 
It is a distinct discerning faculty, given to teach us moral 
truths, as the other senses teach us other truths. It has 
the same right to decide for us, independently of instruc- 
tion, upon the quality of actions, as the natural taste has 
to decide upon the quality of flavors. It is as much to be 
trusted to discern the moral hues of an action, as is the 
sense of sight to discern the colors of the rainbow. 

In vain then do you reason and expostulate with it. 
It is a sense, a seer, a guide ; its office is to teach^ not to 
he taught. Approach not the man of conscience, who 
practically entertains this view, to teach him his duty. He 
knows it already, better than you do. He is too wise to 



124: MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

be taught hj God or man. He has the light within him. 
He will defy your reasoning and hurl your arguments to 
the wind. 

The effects of this view of conscience are hy no means 
chargeable upon its worthy advocates ; but we are bound 
to assert, what we have all been painfully compelled to 
notice, that it tends to make men conceited, malapert, 
opinionated, and self-willed. It thus helps to people the 
ranks of fanatical delusion, and is disastrous to the wel- 
fare of sound morality and of pure Scriptural piety. 



RELATION OF CONSCIENCE TO REASON. 

" Before you resolve upon an action," says the distin- 
guished author cited above, " or a course of action, culti- 
vate the habit of deciding upon its moral character. Let 
the first question always be, "Is this action right?" 
Sound advice. But the writer adds, " For this purpose, 
that is, to decide whether an action is right, God gave 
you this faculty (conscience). If you do not use it, you 
are false to yourself, and inexcusable before God. We 
despise a man who never uses his reason, and scorn hira 
as a fool. Is he not much more to be despised, who neg- 
lects to use a faculty of so much higher authority than 
reason ? " * 

It is here asserted, first, that God gave us the conscience 
for " deciding " upon the moral quality of actions ; and se- 
condly, that it has " much higher authority than reason." 
The decisions of conscience are here considered distinct 
from those of reason, and of " much higher authority." 

The first of the above positions we have virtually ex- 
amined. The second is a legitimate inference from it. 
If conscience is strictly a sense, sustaining to moral truths 

* Moral Science, p. 80. 



THE KATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 125 

the same relation which the other senses do to other truths, 
then, of course, its province is to teach reason, as the other 
senses do, and not to be tanght by it. It is of " mnch high- 
er authority than reason." It is reason's schoolmaster. 
Conscience mnst never go to school to reason, but reason 
must go to school to conscience, as it does to the other 
senses. 

If conscience is above reason, then, instead of acting 
at all times as reasonable beings, men are to be guided by 
what they may chance to suppose an imperative of 
conscience, which is above the jurisdiction of reason. 
They are to consider conscience "of so much higher au- 
thority than reason," that it may decide for itself, and 
have its own way, in defiance of reason's dictates. 

Such a view must of course tend to make those who 
act upon it conscientiously unreasonable. They may be 
good men in their way ; they may even be martyrs to 
what they honestly suppose to be the dictates of their con- 
sciences. They may be deserving of much credit, at least 
in their own eyes ; for the fault may lie in their head, 
rather than in their heart. They may have been badly 
taught. But after all, the fewer we have of such men, the 
better it is for the welfare of society. 

And such men, too, may be very bad^ conscientiously 
bad. "Men have often committed," says Whewell, 
" thefts, frauds, impositions, homicides, thinking their ac- 
tions right ; though they were such as all moralists would 
condemn as wrong. Such men act according to their 
consciences. "Were they therefore justified ? " 

" To allege that an act is according to my conscience ; 
meaning thereby that I act according to a rule which is 
already fixed and settled in my mind, so that I will no 
longer examine whether the rule be right, is to reject the 
real signification of moral rules. It is the conduct of a 



126 • MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

person wlio pursues a wrong road to the place lie aims at, 
and refuses to have it proved that the road is wrong." 

" It has been said, that, if I talk of my humility, 1 
lose it ; something of the same kind may be said of con- 
science." * 

'' If the moral judgments of the mind were from a fa- 
culty distinct from the understanding," says Dr. Alexan- 
der, " and often differing from it, the harmony of the men- 
tal operations would be destroyed. While reason led to 
one conclusion, conscience might dictate the contrary. 
And upon this theory, conscience must always be correct, 
unless the faculty be morbid." 

" The conclusion therefore is, that conscience is not a 
distinct faculty from reason, so far as it consists in a judg- 
naent of the quality of moral acts. Reason or understand- 
ing is the genus: the judgments of conscience are the 
species. Reason has relation to all intelligible subjects ; 
the moral faculty is conversant about moral qualities 
alone." f 

CONSCIENCE ALWAYS TO BE OBEYED. 

To the question. Ought we always to obey the dictates 
of conscience % there can be but one answer. We ought. 
To do otherwise is an immorality. A man can never in- 
nocently offend his conscience. But suppose his con- 
science decides one way and his reason another. Must 
he act unreasonably ? Certainly he must, if conscience is 
" above reason." He ought certainly to obey the highest 
authority. But this is a dilemma for those who advocate 
the view to which we have objected. According to the 
view which we have advocated, the case is impossible. 
For, according to our view, reason is itself a part of con- 

* Vol. I., p. 265. t Outlines, p. 43. 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWEES. 127 

science, and is always to be its guide. Reason is the eye 
OF Conscience. 

The impulse or feeling of conscience is always in fa- 
vor of duty. It urges a man to do only what he supposes 
to be right ; it rebukes him for doing only what he sup- 
poses to be wrong. Under its influence, therefore, a man 
always intends to do right. And as the moral quality of 
an action essentially depends upon the intention, no man 
conducts morally right when he disregards his conscience. 
If the impulse of conscience is not in the nght direction, 
the fault is not in the impulse, any more than the fault is in 
the steam, if the ship which it impels goes the wrong way. 

But suppose a man meaning to do right, does wrong. 
"Where is the blame ? JSTot in the man for his impulse of 
conscience, which was towards duty, whatever the duty 
might be ; nor yet in the man for his intention to do right, 
in obeying his conscience ; but in the man for not having 
duly enlightened his conscience, or for allowing passion or 
prejudice to blind him. 

Such was the fault of Paul when he was opposing 
Christianity. He tells us that he " verily thought " he 
was doing right, but confesses that he did wi'ong. He 
was true to the impulse of his conscience, but he allowed 
prejudice to blind his mind. When a man does what is 
wrong thi'ough inevitable ignorance, it is not a fault of 
heart, but of circumstance ; not a crime, but a misfortune. 
But in most cases of misdoing through ignorance, men 
are blameworthy; for they might have known better. 
They should have better enlightened their consciences. 
It is usually because men are too indolent to inform them- 
selves, or are selfish and obstinate, that they mistake their 
duty. 

The terms moral sense and sense of duty, must then be 
understood to mean the sensibility of the conscience to 



128 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

what is supposed to be right. When we speak of a sense 
of shame or a sense of honor, we do not mean that man 
has a particular sense to discern what is shameful or a 
particular sense to discern what is honorable ; we mean 
only to indicate his sensibility to what he perceives or sup- 
poses to be shameful or honorable. 

1^0 sooner do we suppose another perceiving faculty, 
which is moral instead of rational, than we perpetrate the 
philosophical blunder of hypothesizing a superfluous facul- 
ty, and also open the way to fanatical conceits and delu- 
sions. A true moral perception is never an irrational per- 
ception. Indeed, strictly speaking, the mere power or act 
of perception is never itself moral, and we justly term it 
so only in a figurative sense, when directed to moral ends ; 
as we say that a sword is valiant, when it is valiantly used. 

Extensive practical evils often come of fundamental 
errors in speculation. Multitudes are misled, but they do 
not see what has misled them. The better class realize 
the misgivings of common sense, which prevent them from 
going far astray ; but others are less fortunate. The evils 
resulting from those views of conscience which make every 
man a revelation to himself, which embolden him to disre- 
gard teaching from without, especially that of the Bible, 
thus tending to subvert true faith and loyalty, are too well 
known to all who are conversant with the strange history 
of humanity. 



CHAPTER m. 

DIEECTIONS FOR THE CrLTUKE OF CONSCIENCE. 

From the views whicb. we liave taken of conscience, it is 
evidently susceptible of indefinite improvement. Tliis re- 
spects the clearness, steadiness, and fulness of the light to 
guide it, and the delicacy, uniformity, and promptness of 
its susceptibility. What we would say on this subject 
may be briefly included in the following directions. 

1. Spare no pains to enlighten the mind respecting duty. 
— We need to inform ourselves in regard to truth in morals 
and religion, as well as other subjects. We must employ 
the same powers, with equal diligence, to know what to 
believe and how to conduct in matters of duty^ as we must 
to understand mathematics, history, geography, or any 
other branch of study. Hence earnestness to hnow the 
truth, and diligence to apprehend it, are themselves no 
mean virtues. " If thou criest after knowledge, and liftest 
up thy voice for understanding ; if thou seekest her as sil- 
ver, and searchest for her as for hid treasure ; then shalt 
thou find the knowledge of God." 

When men seek half as earnestly to know their duty, 
as most do for golden treasures ; when they are as anxious 
6* 



.30 MOEAI. PHILOSOPHY. 

for the wisdom tliat is from above, as they are to know 
how to be rich, or to gratify " the lusts of the flesh ; " 
when the buyers and sellers are as zealous to know 
whether the Bible is the word of God, sent to teach them 
their duty, and if it is, what it teaches, as they are to 
know the prices of the markets, and the chances for pro- 
fitable trades and investments ; their consciences will be 
full of light, and the straight and narrow path of duty will 
be as bright before them as noonday. 

2. To be successful seekers of duty we mu^t have sin- 
gleness of jpwyose. — ISTot only must we bring the same 
intellectual powers to bear upon moral as upon other 
subjects, but we have here especial need to bring a truly 
candid and honest heart. Motives of interest, pride, pre- 
judice, party spirit, if allowed to influence, may sway the 
judgment, and thus mislead the conscience. Men thus 
become conscientiously obstinate in error. Careful self- 
examination should exclude all such motives, and hold 
the mind true to the single purpose of knowing and doing 
what is right. "If thine eye be single, thy whole body 
shaU be full of Hght." 

3. Great care should be taken not to mistake other im- 
pulses for that of coiiscience. — Even though a man have 
honest intention, he may mistake for the dictate of con- 
science a less worthy impulse. A feeling of mere desire 
or passion may be regarded as a conscientimis motive. 
Some men practically place their conscience in the 
stomach / others in the gall or spleen, A splenetic con- 
science is no uncommon phenomenon. Others place it 
in the ilium. They are prone to think they do well to be 
angry. In fits of anger, they feel for the time that they 
ought to take vengeance ; or at least that it is right to do 
so. Under almost any passion, they justify themselves 
in doing what the law of God condemns; and even 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 131 

what they condemn, in their more sober and reflecting 
moods. 

Hence the important rule, not to decide and act under 
strong excitements of passion. In the storm and the 
whirlwind, the still small voice of conscience is not heard. 
Other impulses overmaster it, and even claim to be con- 
science itself. Satan is thns transformed into an angel of 
light. In seasons of calm reflection, and in the light of 
all available truth, let the single inquiry be. Is this action 
right f Have I reason to think that I shall review it with 
satisfaction in after life, in the hour of death, at the bar of 
God, through eternal ages? 

Acting thus as a rational being, and in full view 
of his responsibility, the man who is true to his conscience 
will ask himself, Is it my duty to do this act ? K on the 
whole it appears to be so, the impulse of a faithful con- 
science will \)Q to do it. If it appears otherwise, the im- 
pulse of that conscience will be not to do it. Nor can this 
admonition, under these circumstances, be easily mista- 
ken. It is a peculiar, firm, distinct utterance ; there is no 
passion and nothing of the animal in it ; it is as if an angel 
spoke from a shining cloud, " This is the way, walk .ye 
IN it." 

4. 1^0 violence must ever he done to conscientious sgtu- 
jdes. — As the impulse of conscience depends upon light in 
the intellect, its admonitions may not be distinct for the 
want of more light. The mind in this state is said to be 
laboring under scruples of conscience. These scruples 
should not be trifled with, neither by the person who har- 
bors them, nor by those who would guide him in duty. 
So long as they remain, be they reasonable or not, they 
are laws to the subject of them, '^o person should be 
regarded with more tenderness and respect than he, for he 
furnishes the best evidence of being truly conscientious. 



132 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

"When a person has any doubt of the rightfulness of an 
act, he should keep upon the safe side by avoiding it. 
But in such a case, if he gives careful and dispassioned 
attention to his conscience, he will usually discover an in- 
clination to the one side or the other ; for the impulse of 
conscience is never self-balanced. It may be balanced 
against other impulses ; but when other impulses are in 
abeyance, it moves decidedly towards what on the whole 
seems the least doubtful course. 

This impulse must be obeyed. A person acting thus 
may have future cause to regret that his conscience had 
not been better enlightened, but he can never feel remorse 
for having obeyed its dictates. 

5. Conscience should he obeyed promptly.- — By delay- 
ing present duty, its admonitions are often weakened, and 
the danger increased of losing sight of the duty altogether. 
Resisting its admonitions tends to stifle them, and thus to 
bring men into the condition of those " having their con- 
sciences seared with a hot iron." Such persons are in a 
most hopeless state. Better to have been left in ignorance 
of duty than thus to have seared the conscience by resist- 
ing convictions. " For it had been better for them not 
to have known the way of righteousness, than, after they 
have known it, to turn from the holy commandment de- 
livered unto them." * 

But by rendering prompt and cordial obedience to the 
behests of conscience, we quicken and exalt its power over 
the soul. Its impulses are also purer when promptly 
obeyed, than when time has allowed other motives to 
mix with them. A man is prompted, for instance, by a 
pure conviction of duty, to do an immediate act of justice 
to his neighbor. He resists the conviction for several 

* 2 Pet. 2:21. 



THE KATIONAI. MOTIVE POWEES. 133 

days, till at length motives of interest, fear of detection, 
dread of the shame of exposure, come in and mingle with 
the motive of duty to induce him to perform the act. Had 
he done it at first, the act would have been from a pure 
motive. He would have been in that act strictly conscien- 
tious / but now other motives have interposed and injured 
its moral purity. Prompt obedience to the voice of duty 
is thus essential to purity of motive. 

6. Obedience must also be determined and persistent, 
— ^When the convictions of duty are clear, they must be 
obeyed at all pains and hazards. It is sometimes the 
least of the duty to be prompt ; the main struggle may 
come afterwards. To persevere is often more than to 
begin. The noblest virtue and richest rewards come of 
long and arduous conflict. Many a witness for the truth 
who seemed to begin well, has faltered at the sight of the 
stake. " He that endureth unto the end^ the same shall 
be saved." 

The triumphs and rewards of a good conscience will 
surely come at last. With this assurance every person 
must be well armed, who would succeed in a world like 
this in the great battle of righteousness. This is his 
"shield of faith, and helmet of salvation." Chains may 
bind the limbs, but they cannot bind the conscience. 
Prisons of stone and iron may hold the body for long and 
painfyil years in darkness, but they cannot shut out the 
light of truth from the truth-loving soul ; they cannot de- 
stroy the peace of the dutiful spirit. Burning fagots 
may torture the nerves and reduce flesh and bones io 
ashes; but they cannot disturb the good man's inward 
repose, nor arrest his sublime progress to honor and glory 
and immortality. 

Y. We should faithfully review the past. — ^If we would 
not be self-deceived, we must often survey our course and 



134 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

critically examine our motiyes. We can. usually sit in 
judgment upon deeds after they have been done, more 
impartially than before. We are then freer from the ex- 
citement and passion incident to expected action, and can 
scrutinize what we have done at leisure. It was for this 
reason that a man was led to remark, that he had an ac- 
cusation against his conscience, because it did not always 
warn him against doing wrong, but was sure to condemn 
him after he had done so. 

Had he listened more attentively to it, he would have 
heard its warning voice ; but having failed in that duty, 
he should take warning for the future. This part of self- 
examination is of the highest importance. Without it, 
no man knows " what manner of spirit " he is of. He is 
out upon the wide sea of life's events, at the mercy of 
every gale, knowing neither his position nor direction. 

Many have occasion to mourn the neglect of this duty, 
when it is too late. They have allowed themselves to be 
driven along by the excitements of gain, of pleasure, of 
ambition, for perhaps a series of years, impelled by mo^ 
tives and doing acts which their consciences, had they 
soberly reflected, would have utterly condemned. But 
they did not reflect ; therefore, the wrongfulness of their 
course did not impress them. 

The time has at length fled, and can never be recalled. 
The thought of this sometimes darts upon them as an ar- 
row from the skies ; they pause for a moment and think 
of redeeming the past ; but again their panting spirits are 
upon the fast trodden way, heedless as ever of conscience, 
and all the more impatient for having been molested by it. 

But this cannot last always. Age or affliction at length 
brings them to a stand. They are compelled to pause ; to 
survey the past ; to see that they hav^e lost theii^ golden 
opportunity /(?7' ever ! That priceless treasure, a pure ai^ 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 135 

iipriglit character, they have fatally sacrificed, and with 
it all that imparts value to their existence. They may 
have gained their objects, but in so doing they have bar- 
tered away the pearl of infinite and enduring value for a, 
few bursting bubbles. 

All youth should be warned by such examples to enter 
upon life's perilous course with frequent, thorough, impar- 
tial surveys of what they have done, the motives which have 
impelled them, and the end towards which they are tending. 

8. In view of misdeeds and failures in duty, we should 
rejpent and reform. — All persons, on faithfully reviewing 
the past, find much in their conduct and motives to la- 
ment. But if they are early in the review, there is hope 
of amendment. They should not be discouraged, but 
humbled; they should not yield to despair, but nerve 
themselves to a better fight. They should sincerely rejpentj 
seek pardon and strength from on high, and strive to do 
well in future. There is for such a gracious provision. 
" He will not break the bruised reed." 

Kepentance does not of itself remove the evil of mis- 
doing, but there can be no remedy without it. In the 
mere light of morality, it is an eternal loss to have done 
wrong ; but having done so, the best possible thing that 
remains, is, to strive to regain, by timely repentance, the 
path of duty. Of the remedial dispensation, we are to 
speak in the proper place. All we need to say here, is, 
that they who do repent sincerely, and strive in earnest to 
do their duty in future, will find their approving con- 
sciences uniting with the sympathies of all good beings to 
speed them in the right way. 

9. "We should always be grateful for success. — It is as 
much a duty to be grateful for success as to be penitent for 
failures. If a man has been enabled to resist temptation, 
and to pursue a straight path of duty ; or if he has succeed- 



136 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ed to regain the path when he had lost it, he has cause in* 
deed for unspeakable gratitude. If he is truly grateful, 
he will be equally humble j for the graces of gratitude 
and of humility are indissolubly united. Duly exercised, 
they will nourish every other grace, and will impart 
strength, steadiness, firmness, to all future good en- 
deavors. 

Thus an approving conscience and a grateful heart, 
become at once a present reward and a pledge of future 
success. Under their benign influence, men '' go from 
strength to strength." The aspirations of just desire and 
the joys of approving conscience, are as eagle-wings, bear- 
ing them steadfastly upward to their glorious inheritance. 
They " shall renew their strength ; they shall mount up 
with wings as eagles ; they shall run and not be weary ; 
they shall walk and not faint." 

And there is no halting in this sublime career. There 
is no end to the culture and improvement of conscience, 
as there is no reaching ultimately the heights of moral excel- 
lence. Far above our feeble thoughts they rise, above the 
stars, and into the third heavens of eternal purity and bliss. 
Higher and yet higher, is ever the good man's motto. 

" "We never can have done all that is in our power, in 
this respect. It never can be consistent with our duty, to 
despair of enlightening and instructing our conscience be- 
yond what we have yet done. Our standard of virtue is 
not high enough, if we think it need to be made no higher. 
Virtue has never so completely taken possession of a man, 
but that she may possess him still more completely ; and 
therefore any conception of virtue, which we look upon as 
perfect, must on that very account be imperfect. Con- 
science is never fully formed, but always in the course of 
formation." *^ 

'^ WheweU, Vol. I., p. 263. 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWEES. 137 

And indeed, in every view of it, conscience is the most 
august and fearful faculty of the human soul. It is this, 
more than all others, that distinguishes us from the brute 
creation. On our conduct in relation to it depends all 
that is excellent in character, and all that we must ulti- 
mately enjoy or suffer, as long as we exist. It is in our 
power to make it our most precious and abiding bosom 
friend, our most terrible and relentless foe. 

Including the highest of the intellective and of the 
impulsive powers, and combining them in one great end 
of securing man's highest excellence of character, its au- 
thority over all the other faculties is supreme, and should 
never be resisted for a moment. All other impulses ; all 
appetites, emotions, desires, affections, volitions; must 
stand in awe of it, and be for ever subject to its righteous 
demands. Duly enlightened, it is the voice of God in the 
soul. 



CHAPTER lY. 



TASTE. 



The next rational susceptibility of onr nature to be no- 
ticed, for the sake of a better name, we call Taste. "We 
were made not only to do the rights but to enjoy the 'beau- 
tiful. Indeed the right itself is beautiful. "We were made 
to appreciate and enjoy beauty of character, as well as to 
practise it. In this view there is a very close affinity be- 
tween the moral and the esthetical susceptibilities, and 
some writers have even considered them one and the 
same. But we shall find them to be distinct faculties. 

As conscience is a rational susceptibility to right and 
wrong, taste is a rational susceptibility to beauty and de- 
formity. But it is not merely the beauty or deformity of 
moral action, to which taste is related. It sweeps the en- 
tire range of the natural, the intellectual, and the moral 
world, and lays them all under contribution. 

We use the term heauty, also, in this connection, in its 
broadest sense, as comprehending all that to which man 
is related as an esthetical being. In this broad sense, sub- 
limity, grandeur, majesty, are beautiful ; so also are order, 
fitness, proportion ; so are melody and harmony : so are 



THE EATIONAL MOTIVE POWEES. 139 

the doctrines of exact science ; and so are all the laws of 
nature, as well as the eternal lessons of truth and right- 
eousness. 

Taste, as well as conscience, has the motive element, 
but it moves us very differently. Conscience incites us 
to do the right; taste, to admire the beautiful. Con- 
science moves us to aot^ in view of duty / taste moves us 
to exclaim^ How heautiful! Conscience finds its end in 
the right done / taste finds its end in the heautiful en- 
joyed. Hence the feeling of taste, in distinction from 
that of conscience, is by some called, like that of compla- 
cent affection, sentiment. 

The power of cognition sustains precisely the same re- 
lation to the susceptibility of taste, which it does to that 
of conscience. Without it neither of these susceptibilities 
could be excited ; and in each case the quality and direc- 
tion of the motive force depend much upon the accuracy 
and clearness of the perception. For this reason the con- 
science of a Christian condemns many acts which that of 
the savage approves, and the taste of a Christian is dis- 
gusted with many things which the savage regards as 
beautiful. The difference is principally owing to educor 
tion^ leading them to view things differently. 

So distinct are the susceptibilities of conscience and 
taste, that we can conceive of an accountable being en- 
tirely destitute of the latter. But he would be angular 
and stiff; unlike the rounded and beautiful universe in 
which he exists. With conscience and will in perfect 
play, he would do exactly what he ought., and no more. 
Conscience would impel him to duty ; precisely that he 
would do, and there his lesson would end. He would be 
like a man composed of only bones, sinews, and tendons. 
At the bidding of his will, all the parts would swing a^^d 
play round in their joints and sockets, just as they ought; 



140 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

but the absence of flesh and color would make him an 
unsightly object. 

We occasionally see men somewhat after this fashion ; 
and while we do homage to their severe morality, we feel 
that there is in them an awful void of that which renders 
humanity genial and lovely. It seems to have been no 
part of the Creator's plan to make man such a being ; he 
therefore inserted in his constitution the principle of taste. 
But the difference between men respecting it, as in the 
case of conscience, is more due to culture than to consti- 
tution. All men have both conscience and taste as ori- 
ginal parts of their nature ; and the difference between 
the taste of the rude savage and that of the refined Chris- 
tian, is not greater than the difference between their con- 
sciences. 

E'one will pretend that the morality of our puritan 
ancestors was not of a high order. But it was of the severe 
stamp. There was more of conscience than of taste in it. 
They feared God ; they reverenced law ; they were ever 
true to the stern behests of conscience. They strenuously 
endeavored to do their duty, as accountable beings ; but 
they were not wholly true to themselves, as esthetical 
beings. Their style of dress and of speech, their mode of 
constructing churches, their music, their abjuration or 
neglect of the fine arts, are sufficient proof of this. Tlie 
difference between them and their descendants, in this 
particular, is clearly owing to difference of culture. 

CONSCIENCE AND TASTE COMBINED. 

Here then we have the two rational impulses, that of 
conscience and that of taste, side by side, in the rational 
soul ; the first indispensable to a moral being, the second 
desirable. Without the first, a being is not accountable; 



THE EATIONAI. MOTIVE POWEES. 141 

without the second, he is not 'beautiful. The first is the 
husband, commanding and firm ; the second is the wife, 
engaging and lovely. These twain hath God joined to- 
gether in the sonl, to exalt it in excellence and beanty ; 
and what God hath thns joined together, let not man pnt 
asunder. 

In the nature of God himself, we speak it reverently, 
these two principles seem to unite. In all his doings, 
he evidently regards the laws of taste, as well as of jus- 
tice. He has not only placed the rational universe un- 
der righteous moral law, but he has made all things beau- 
tiful. 

From the humblest flower that opens its modest eye 
in the valley, to the sparkling glories of an evening sky ; 
and from the feeblest hues that play upon the dew-drop, 
to the gorgeous splendors of the rainbow ; there is beauty 
in every trace. 

All animal creation, from the microscopic reptile and 
insect, up to the lord of creation, is beautifully made. 
The universe is one vast gallery of fine arts, in which the 
sentiment of taste may luxuriate and grow for ever, and 
be never nearer exhausting its treasures than at first. 
How clearly then is taste an element of the divine nature, 
as it is of ours, made in its likeness. 

COMPARATIVE IMPORTANCE OF CONSCIENCE AND TASTE. 

If the question be asked, Which is the more important 
to be cultivated, conscience or taste ? the answer must be 
in favor of conscience. A man of bad conscience is 
guilty and dangerous ; a man of bad taste is vulgar and 
disgusting. A man may be right in part, with a bad 
taste ; but he cannot be right at all, with a bad conscience. 
Both in morals and in religion, the culture of mere taste 



142 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

may so supersede that of conscience, as to produce disas- 
trous results upon the character. 

Tliis is strikingly seen in some parts of continental 
Europe. Taste is there exalted to a passion. Its impulse 
sways the soul, and its gratification is meat and drink. 
The fine arts are more studied than the Ten Command- 
ments, and to offend taste is a greater crime than to break 
God's law. To be immoral is no crime, but to be vulgar 
is horrible. The most fervent devotions of the soul are 
paid in the picture-gallery ; and even the temple of God 
is scarcely a place for worship, unless richly adorned by 
the fine arts. 

When taste thus usurps the place of conscience, and 
as it were, absorbs and controls its impulses, it often 
leads to the worst of consequences ; it even counte- 
nances shameless immodesty, and arrays vice itself with 
charms. 

But after all, this is no reason why we should neglect 
to cultivate it. The fault is not in cultivating the taste, 
but in neglecting to cultivate the conscience. Let those 
to whom we above referred cultivate the conscience, ac- 
cording to its relative importance, with as much zeal 
as they do the taste, and they would become splendid 
specimens of humanity. Had Raphael been morally 
what he was esthetically^ he would have been almost 
divine. 

It is then the duty of every person to be first of all 
morally upright, and also to cultivate and exalt his taste 
as much as possible. He may thus present to God and 
man a character complete in all its parts ; full, rounded, 
beautiful, having the grace and finish of a living form, 
and fraught with delicate and genial impulse. 



THE EATIOKAL MOTIVE POWERS. 143 



THE PEINCIPLES OF BEAUTY SUBJECTIVE. 

"We have seen that man is constitutionally esthetical 
as well as moral ; designed to commune with the beauti- 
ful as well as the just. We have also seen that the taste 
should be cultivated, and is susceptible of indefinite im- 
provement. Are we then to infer that there is no inher- 
ent standard of beauty in the mind ? ]^o more than we 
are to infer that there is none of morality. The mind is 
so constituted that it intuitively perceives the first princi- 
ples of beauty, just as it does the first principles of duty. 
These principles are woven into the very texture of the 
mind ; they are wrought into it by the finger of God as a 
" living sentiment ; " and it needs only to be aroused to 
consciousness to recognize them. 

Why do the beauties of the landscape so delight even 
the untaught savage ? Why has music the power to hold 
him entranced and spell-bound ? Why do the well exe- 
cuted works of sculpture and painting kindle in him such 
pleasing emotions. He may not discern in them all the 
fine touches obvious to more cultivated minds ; still he 
feels the difierence between a rude and a finished work. 
He realizes th§^ beautiful far beyond his power to explain. 

And why does all nature, in her endless variety and 
profusion of forms and colors, find in him such quick and 
glad response ? Just because both the mind within and 
the world without, are everywhere alike constructed with 
reference to the essential principles of beauty ; and henc©, 
when they are brought in contact, there is in the living 
spirit a vivid recognition of this fact. Emotions of delight 
are then kindled in the spirit, as when one recognizes the 
glowing features of a dear friend. 



144 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



EVERY PERSON HAS HIS OWN IDEAL OF BEAUTY. 

Thus every person may apprehend the first principles 
of beauty, and these are essentially the same in all. But 
there are endless degrees of culture. ITature herself is 
an educator ; the rudest savage is in her school, and has 
received some of her teaching. And with these endless 
degrees of cultm-e, from that of the most abject savage to 
that of the most refined and accomplished scholar, are 
corresponding ideals of the standard or highest type of 
beauty. The standard rises in every mind in the degree 
of its culture, and hence every mind has its own standard. 

Every person then carries in his own mind his ideal 
of beauty. He arraigns all nature and all art before his 
sovereign tribunal. His conscience is not surer nor quick- 
er to approve or to condemn, than his taste is. His taste, 
like his conscience, is improved by culture, and thus, like 
it, may approve to-day what it will hereafter condemn ; 
still, he has his present ideal, such as it is, and that of no 
other man will answer for him. It is in vain that others 
assure him a thing is beautiful. Unless it suits his own 
ideal, to him it is not beautiful. He may as well attempt 
to use another man's conscience, as another man's taste. 

But the ideal of a man of culture will always be in ad- 
vance of his power to execute, and perhaps of that of any 
other man. The living spirit is quicker to conceive than 
the hand is to accomplish. Hence an artist is ever pur- 
suing his ideal, and never reaches it. Sometimes he seems 
to himself farther from it at the end, than at the begin- 
ning. The reason is, that by his culture his ideal keeps 
rising, and often outstrips his growing skill. It is said 
that Raphael destroyed some of his finest pictures, be- 
cause they fell so far below his mark. The most beautiful 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWEES. 145 

pictures were never yet painted ; the most enchanting 
music was never sung. They have existed only in the 
minds of the artists. 

"The rational spirit can itself create its own pure 
forms, which shall express the living emotion more full 
and perfect than can be embodied in any media of nature 
or of art ; and thus the cultivated genius has his own ab- 
solute ideal beauty, as the highest and purest conception 
of the living sentiment in any particular case ; and this 
he makes his ultimate criterion to judge of any represen- 
tation in nature or art, and becomes the critic, measuring 
and estimating every actual form of beauty that he finds, 
and pronouncing it fine or faulty in proportion as it squares 
with his own absolute ideal." * 

TASTE INDEPENDENT OF THE OUTER WORLD. 

It follows from what we have seen, that the soul of 
man may enjoy an independence of all nature and of all 
art in respect to the pleasures of taste. It deigns to be 
moved by them, as external and occasional causes ; but it 
can be moved without them, by virtue of its powers of 
conception and imagination. In the absence of the pre- 
sent world, it can create worlds for itself. It can realize 
more glorious forms, more beautiful and enchanting scenes, 
than were ever addressed to mortal eyes ; more enraptur- 
ing music, than ever fell from mortal lips. These material 
organs are too gross and feeble to convey to the mind 
any thing fully adequate to its high ideals of beauty. 

Hence Milton, wholly blind, and Bethoven, wholly 
deaf, enjoyed visions and music more glorious than ever 
reached them through the organs of sense ; and Tenant, 
with all the organs of sense entirely suspended, enjoyed 

* Hickok's Moral Science, p. 33. 



146 MOKAi PHILOSOPHY. 

sights, and sounds, and society, and employments, akin to 
those of heaven, if not indeed those of heaven itself. 
These facts, evincing the soul's capacity for enjoyment 
independently of the body and of the material creation, 
when its powers are in the exalted service of perfected 
conscience and taste, afford us some conception of the 
reality and value of its active existence beyond the grave. 



DESIGN OF TASTE. 

The design of this faculty has been paitly anticipated. 
Without it man would be incomplete. The brute, by the 
absence of reason and conscience, is put in relation only 
to the lower world of the senses. For this it is complete 
without taste. But man, by the possession of reason and 
conscience, is put in relation to the higher world of spir- 
itual excellence and of essential and divine beauty. For 
this he is incomplete without the susceptibility in ques- 
tion. 

Taste, as well as conscience, punishes and rewards ; the 
latter by a feeling of approbation or of disapprobation, the 
former by a feeling of satisfaction or disgust. Each of 
these faculties enhances our enjoyment or our suffering, 
according as we are true or false to its behests. Thus 
the man of elevated taste and pure conscience, is brought 
into delightful relation with all the works and laws of 
Jehovah. 

While the profound sciences and the rich endowments 
of art open to him their exhaustless treasures of beauty, 
the entire face of nature, in all its changing aspects, is to 
his eye traced with the delicate pencillings of the divine 
hand. He feels the genial and glowing impulse of beauty 
excited, not only by the more obvious and exciting scenes 
furnished by revolving scenes, by rich and varied land- 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWEES. 147 

scapeSj by gorgeous eyening skies, bnt by the less ob- 
served and less exciting objects ever at band. 

"When the " king of day " goes to rest beneatb cur- 
tains of gold, fringed witb diamond lustre, all men feel 
the impulse and exclaim, How beautiful ! But tbe person 
of true culture does not depend upon tbese rare exhibi- 
tions alone for the gratifications of taste ; he finds them in 
every blade of grass, in the structure of every leaf, in the 
insect's wing, in the spider's web. Like the bee, he 
gathers honey from every fiower, and extracts it from 
even the humblest sources. 

The design of this faculty in a strictly moral view can- 
not be mistaken. Yice is truly an offence against taste, 
as well as against morality. "Whatever is morally wrong 
is in bad taste. All decent men admit this of low vices. 
They justly esteem them vulgar. The same is strictly true 
of all immoralities. They are all in bad taste. Had this 
fact been universally regarded, the world would have been 
spared many of those vices which have disgraced the fine 
arts. But let us not despair of the time, when a thorough- 
ly correct and chastening taste will xmite with conscience 
in the universal condemnation of vice. 

ITot less intimate is the alliance of taste with religion. 
Christianity is as beautiful as it is good. It appeals to 
the taste as well as to the conscience, and is equally 
adapted to elevate and perfect both. Its divine mission 
to the soul of man will not be completed, until he is per- 
fectly qualified to glorify and enjoy God in all his works 
and ways. 

The teachings of the Bible and the worship which it 
enjoins, are sublimely beautiful, and can be fully appre- 
ciated and enjoyed only by the man of true taste. The 
description of heaven itself; the walls of jasper, the gates 
of pearl, the streets of gold ; the harps, the crowns, the 



148 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

robes, and the eternal anthems of music ; all show, how- 
ever figuratively interpreted, that the pleasures of re- 
fined and perfected taste enter largely into the rewards of 
the heavenly state. 

THE CULTURE OF TASTE. 

We have seen that taste, as well as conscience, needs 
to be educated. 

1. It must be enlightened. As its susceptibility de- 
pends upon the mind's perception of things, its impulses 
will be rude or refined, according as the intellect is ill or 
well informed. There is probably a difi*erence between 
the original susceptibilities of men, but the main differ- 
ence is made by culture. The fault in the taste of a sav- 
age is more in the intellect than in the feeling. He is by 
no means wanting in taste ; he is delighted with his 
beads, and paint, and feathers ; but his taste needs cul- 
ture. 

We must then enlighten our taste by studying books 
and models of beauty, just as we would enlighten our con- 
science by studying the Bible and models of Christian 
character. If one would improve his taste in literature, 
he must read the best standard writers ; if in the fine arts, 
he must study the best models ; if in dress and equipage, 
he must have a critical eye to those approved by compe- 
tent judges ; if for architecture and gardening, he must 
carefully notice their best specimens ; if for the beauties 
of nature, he must not only be true to his original per- 
ceptions, but must add to these a careful study of her end- 
less forms and features of beauty. He must also mingle 
with cultivated and refined society, and catch its living 
spirit and manners, just as he must mingle with enlight- 
ened and pure Christian society, to improve his conscience 
and elevate the tone of his morality and religion. 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWEKS. 149 

It may be objected that taste thus formed is conven- 
tional. So far as it is so, it ceases to be taste, and degen- 
erates to fashion. A style of dress or equipage, for ex- 
ample, may be fashionable, but in bad taste. So may a 
style of literature, or of building, or even of manners. 
The folly and impudence of fashion may for a time over- 
ride the principles of taste, just as vice may override 
those of morality. But fashion is mutable, while the 
principles of taste, like those of morals, are unchanging ; 
and to these all judgment must ultimately appeal. 

It requires but a measured degree of discrimination to 
distinguish between taste and fashion. There is a fitness, 
an ease, a naturalness, and hence a peculiar charm in 
whatever is in accordance with the essential principles of 
taste, which commends it irresistibly to the human mind. 

2. The taste must be exercised. To do this may be 
thought out of the power of most persons. It may be 
supposed that they have not the means of indulging it. 
But true taste may be exercised with the humblest means. 
Indeed it is sometimes even more demanded and more 
exhibited in the use of small means than of large. There 
is here an important distinction between taste and fashion. 
Taste may shine in acknowledged poverty ; fashion must 
always ape the rich. Taste walks erect and independent- 
ly ; fashion goes crouching and clinging at the skirts of 
wealth. The poor man can be as tasteful as the mil- 
lionnaire. 

Taste does not need to rustle in silks, or glitter with 
diamonds, or dwell in palaces. The poor peasant girl, 
with her simple and tidy dress of the cheapest fabrics, 
may exercise as true taste as the daughter of the rich, 
with her laces and ribbons. The log cabin may be made 
to exhibit as true taste, in the circumstances, as the proud- 
est mansion of the metropolis. 



150 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The directions for tlie culture of taste are then sum- 
marily these : always have an eye to whatever is truly 
beautiful in nature and art, and always endeavor, as 
means and circumstances permit, to repeat and enjoy it. 

CONCLUDING EEMAUKS. 

It may be thought that in a treatise of morals, what 
we have said upon taste is out of place. But it is a ques- 
tion whether this element has not been either too much 
neglected, or put in a false relation. K it has any thing 
distinguishing, it pertains to our susceptibilities, and be- 
longs to moral rather than intellectual philosophy. We 
might indeed have an esthetical philosophy, but it would 
be incomplete without the moral, as the moral would be 
incomplete without the esthetical. 

They who attempt to ignore or to repress the principle 
of taste in their nature, and to conduct mily with reference 
to that of a severe and exacting morality, feel a want which 
they cannot innocently supply. A part of their nature is 
unprovided for. Their morality teaches them that the 
pleasures of taste are doubtful, and lead to vice, and they 
suppose that to deny them is a part of the self-denial en- 
joined by Christianity. 

But it is not a legitimate indulgence of a constitutional 
principle of our nature, that Christianity would have us 
deny. It is 2. perversion of it. And they who attempt to 
practise an unnatural and undemanded self-denial, are apt 
to become ascetic and gloomy, and thus to impair their 
usefulness, and even their health. While others, less con- 
scientious, or less firmly fortified in the principles of mo- 
rality, for the want of the rational and pure pleasures of 
taste, falter in their course, and sink into gross and for- 
bidden indulgence of the appetites. 



THE EATIONAL MOTIVE POWEKS. 151 

Let taste, then, be allowed its due place in the ethical 
system ; let its relations to conscience and to duty be well 
defined ; and we shall have no occasion to make war 
either npon conscience, on the one side, or upon a rational 
demand of our nature, on the other. " Happy is he that 
condemneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth," 
and happy also is he that wisely alloweth what nature de- 
mands^ that so he allow not what morality condemns. 

Still it must never be forgotten that the pleasures of 
taste, however exalted and refined, as truly as those of 
sensuality, may be immoral and wicked ; and that they 
always are so, when they confiict with the demands of 
that law, which requires us to make it the supreme ob- 
ject and end of life to glorify and enjoy God, by securing 
the highest moral and spiritual well-being of ourselves 
and of mankind. 



CHAPTEE Y. 



WILL. 



"We have already noticed the distinction oetween the pow- 
er of mere instinctive volition, as it exists in the animal 
nature, and the rational will. It is the latter, the power 
of responsible choice, that we now propose to examine. 
With this view, we must be allowed here to trench a lit- 
tle upon the limits of psychology. 

It must be remembered that what we call ^powers of 
mind, are only man's ability for certain kinds of mental 
action. This term variously qualified indicates, in sys- 
tematic order, various attributes of one and the same per- 
son. To say that a man has the powers of perception, 
imagination, memory, is only saying that he can perceive, 
imagine, remember. So also to say that he has the pow- 
ers of aifection, desire, will, is only saying that he can 
love, desire, choose. 

This seems indeed too obvious to need to be said ; and 
yet serious difficulties, especially in relation to the will, 
have often arisen from considering the several mental 
faculties as agents, in some sense independent of, or ac- 
tually conti'oUing, the one responsible man. They are 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 153 

indeed agents or instruments, but they are agents of the 
person^ to whom God has given them, to be used bj him 
as an accountable being. 

Now all the world well knows what is meant by choos- 
ing. The act cannot be explained, just because it is a 
simple one and needs no explanation. And when we say 
that man is endowed with will, we only say that he ccm 
choose / thus asserting a fact of which every person is con- 
scious, and which therefore requires no further proof. JSTo 
philosophy can go behind this fact ; for the fact is ulti- 
mate, and philosophy cannot go beyond what is ulti- 
mate. 

To speak of free will, is tautology ; to speak of enslaved 
will, is a solecism. Man can choose, or he cannot. If he 
can, he has the power which we call will / if he cannot, 
he has no such power. "We are now speaking of consti- 
tutional ability. Inclination or predisposition to right or 
wrong tcse of the will, is another matter, and will be con- 
sidered when we treat of moral states and actions. 

In the action of the will, a convenient distinction is 
made between choice and volition. The word choice ex- 
presses a determination or purjpose of mind, with reference 
to a certain act or course of action. It may be strictly 
immanent, and may repose fully formed in the mind for 
months and years. Thus a man determines to-day to go 
to Europe next year. Volition expresses the nisus, or di- 
rect exertion of the will, to carry the purpose into efiect. 
In both choice and volition, the man is equally free and 
responsible, but he is not responsible for the success or 
failure of the volition, for of this he has not the control. 
Hence all the morality of the act obtains before that point 
is reached. 

"I can absolutely make the nisus to move my ha^nd, 
but the nisus will be followed by the motion only on con- 



154 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

dition that no antagonistic physical canse overcomes the 
mechanical force of the hand. If the hand is bound with 
a cord, or manacled, I am not free to move the hand, al- 
though I am still free to make the nisus or volition.''^ * 
The morality of the act must therefore terminate with the 
volition, precisely where the liberty terminates. The choice 
may long precede the volition, as we have said, or they 
may be co-instantaneous, but they are always equally free 
acts of the same will and the same responsible person. 

A man may purpose to-day to murder a person to- 
morrow, whom he is expecting then to meet ; and thus 
the guilty murderer at heart, may exist twenty-four hom's, 
before the volition is made that strikes the fatal blow ; or 
his victim may be present, and the volition to strike may 
instantly follow the purpose ; but both the purpose and 
the volition have each a moral quality ; for which the 
man is responsible . If he freely arrests his murderous 
purpose, and does not sti'ike the fatal blow, he is less guilty 
than if he adds to that j)urpose the final volition that con- 
summates his crime. In the latter case he is guilty for 
the purpose, and he is guilty also for the volition that 
wields the blow ; but whether the blow is effectual or not, 
does not affect his guilt. 

All this, the truth of which we cannot fail to see, is 
predicated of the fact that the man is not the instrument 
of his will, but that his will is the instrument of the man ; 
which will he is free to use, and is justly held responsible 
for the way in which he employs it. 

" To talk of liberty," says President Edwards, " or the 
contrary, as belonging to the very will itself is not to 
speak good sense. For the will itself is not an agent that 
has a will ; the power of choosing, itself, has not a power 
of choosing. That which has the power of volition is the 

* The Doctrine of the Will, by Henry P. Tappan, p. 95. 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWEBS. 155 

man, or the soul, and not the power of volition itself. To 
be free is the property of an agent who is possessed of 
powers and faculties, as much as to be cunning, valiant, 
bountiful, or zealous. But these qualities are the proper- 
ties of persons, and not the properties of properties." * 

IN WHAT SENSE ACTS OF THE WILL ARE CAUSED. 

The necessitarian scheme has most of its support from 
arguments founded on the laws of cause and effect in the 
natural world. It is a law of nature, that any body at rest 
will continue at rest until acted upon by something called a 
cause. Thus every movement in nature is, in some sense, 
an effect of a preceding one, and that of another preced- 
ing it, until we reach the Supreme Being, who alone acts 
of himself. 'Now the human will has been by some phi- 
losophers placed in this chain of cause and effect. Our 
volitions have been supposed to be caused by something 
without our control, acting upon the will, as the turning 
of the wind-mill is caused by the wind. This is fatality. 

We say in reply, that we do not deny the all-pervad- 
ing law of cause and effect, but maintain that it operates 
in the material world conformably to the nature of mat- 
ter, and in the mental world conformably to the nature 
of mind. ISTow man is a rational, spiritual being, made 
in the image of his Maker ; and, like him, is capable of 
free and responsible action. Like God himself, he can 
hegin, originate, a series of actions ; and, so far as the ac- 
tions are in his own mind, he can arrest, terminate, a series 
which he has begun. He can 'begin to do good or evil ; 
he can cease from so doing. This is implied in the very 
idea of a responsible will. 

The fact is certain; so rendered by three invincible 

* Works, vol. II. 



156 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

proofs, hmnan consciousness, the Bible, and the clearest 
deductions of reason ; but the modus of the fact transcends 
our present powers. Here a true, honest philosophy- 
only looks, admires, and confesses her ignorance. 

" Sow the will can possibly be free, must remain to 
us, under the present limitation of our faculties, wholly 
incomprehensible. We are unable to conceive an abso- 
lute commencement. N^ay, were we even to admit as 
true what we cannot think as possible, still the doctrine 
of a motiveless volition would be only casualism ; and the 
free acts of an indifferent, are, morally and rationally, as 
worthless as the pre-ordered passions of a determined will. 
How, therefore, I repeat, moral liberty is possible in man 
or God, we are utterly unable speculatively to understand. 
But practically the/be^, that we are free, is given to us in 
the consciousness of an uncompromising law of duty, and 
in the consciousness of our moral accountability ; and this 
fact of liberty cannot be redargued on the ground that it 
is incomprehensible, for the philosophy of the conditioned 
proves, against the understanding, that things there are, 
which may^ nay must be true, of which the understanding 
is wholly unable to construe to itself the possibility." * 

Because man wills freely^ it does not follow that he 
wills without m^otives. It is not to be supposed that God 
wills without motives ; no more does man. Yet who will 
say, that because God wills in view of motives to create 
a world, he is therefore not free in creating ? f Is it not 

* Hamilton's Phil, of the Conditioned, p. 509. 

•j- The author is aware that some Tiave said it. They have denied the essen- 
tial freedom of God himself, and asserted that his creative and other acts are 
necessary. But they have done so in obedience to a presupposed theory, to 
which every thing rnust yield, rather than from the spontaneous dictates of the 
primal and unbiassed judgment. Cousin and others have asserted the neces- 
sity, on the ground that God's distinguishing characteristic is that of an abso- 
lute creative force, which must necessarily pass into activity. " The subjec- 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 157 

his glory that all his actions are transcendently free, and at 
the same time from the best of motives ? Why then should 
it be supposed that man^ just because he acts from mo- 
tives, acts of necessity ? The truth is exactly the re/verse 
of this. It is only as a being acts from motives, that his 
actions are free. Action not directed by intelligent mo- 
tive, is necessary action ; like that of a brute obeying its 
instinct, or that of a cloud moved by the wind. 

OCCASIONAL AND EFFICIENT CAUSES. 

As these terms have extensive currency, we must ex- 
plain and use them. The occasional cause, in moral 
science, is the Tnotive from which the man wills ; the effi- 
cient cause is the ma/n himself. The term occasional 
cause is not a happy one, for it is often understood to imply 
necessity. The truth is, the fact which it indicates is not 
really a cause of volition. For to say that a man is by it 
induced to will, is only saying that in view of it he is wil- 
ling to will ; which is only saying that he wills. Thus 
all we can make of it, is, that in view of the fact the man 

tion of the Deity to a necessity, a necessity of self-manifestation identical with 
the creation of the universe, is contradictory of the fundamental postulates of 
a divine nature. On this theory, God is not distinct from the world ; the 
creature is a modification of the creator." — Hamilton on the Conditional, p. 480. 
Whilst others, from adopting a metaphysical error, and mistaking the essen- 
tial nature of moral action, have predicated a necessity of the divine goodness, 
as cmnpelling choice from the highest motives. The assertion is suicidal ; for 
in the very act of asserting the excellence of God, they deny his excellence, by 
denying his freedom. The irwral quality of any act depends essentially upon 
its being a free act. See Cousin, Cours d' Hist, de la Philosophic Morale, 
Hume's Treatise on Human Nature, Cudworth's Intel. Sys., Coleridge's Aids to 
Reflection, Edwards on the Will, Day on the Will, Tappan on the Will, and 
others of a similar class, in which the reader will find both sides ingeniously 
and sometimes ably discussed. Above all, see Hamilton's Phil, of the Condi- 
tional, a thesaurus of great and mighty erudition, collated and applied as a 
Scotch intellect knows how to do it. 



158 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

freely wills. If the fact or motiye had no existence, not 
only would the man not will freely, but he would not will 
at all. 

JSTeither is the efficient cause of human choice and 
volition, the same as an efficient cause in natm-e. In the 
natural world, the efficient cause of all phenomena is 
either God himself, or some power lodged by Him in the 
antecedents. But in the case of human choices and voli- 
tions, the immediate cause, by the supposition, is not God ; 
nor is it a power, like that supposed in nature, lodged in 
the antecedents. For the supposed power in nature, or 
what some philosophers call a natural cause, is always 
active and effective. This is a first law of physics. 'Eo- 
thing short of a miracle can suspend the operation of a 
cause in nature. Its operation, miracle apart, is made 
necessary and constant, by the direct power of God. But 
man, like the Being in whose likeness he was made, while he 
has at all times \hQ power to will, is not constantly %Dilling . 

"Let it be borne in mind, then, that there is more than 
one process in the universe. Some things are produced, 
it is most true, by the prior action of other things ; and 
herein we behold the relation'of cause and effect, properly 
so called; but it does not follow that all things are em- 
braced in this one relation. This appears to be so only to 
the mind of the necessitarian; from which one fixed idea 
has shut out the light of observation. He no longer sees 
the rich variety, the boundless diversity, there is in the 
works of God. All things and all modes and all processes 
of the awe-inspiring universe, are made to conform to the 
narrow methods of his own mind. Look where he will, 
he sees not the free and fiowing outlines of nature's true 
lineaments ; he every where beholds the image of one fixed 
idea in his mind, projected outwardly upon the universe 
of God ; behind which the true secrets and operations of 



THE EATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 159 

nature are concealed from his vision. Even wlien lie 
contemplates that living somxe of action, that bubbling 
fountain of volitions, the immiortal mind of man itself, he 
.only beholds a thing ^ which is made to act by the action 
of something else upon it; just as a body is made to move 
by the action of force upon it. His philosophy is, there- 
fore, an essentially shallow and superficial philosophy."* 

HOW THE WILL IS DETERMINED. 

The great question respecting the freedom of the will, 
on which Jonathan Edwards and others have largely 
written, turns on the way or means by which human voli- 
tions are determined. For, merely attempting to prove 
that the will is free, is only attempting to prove that the 
will is a will; or, in other words, a power of willing. 
Tliis would be gravely attempting to prove, that what is, 
is. Tlie mind of that great man was engaged in no such 
idle play, as some have vainly imagined. But there is 
sometimes in his reasoning a confusion of terms, from his 
using the same term in different senses ; which he might 
have avoided by always referring the influence of motives 
to the agent himself, instead of his will. 

On this point Stuart has justly remarked: "Instead of 
speaking, according to the common phraseology, of the 
influence of motives on the will^ it would be much more 
correct to speak of the influence of motives on the agent. 
We are apt to forget what the will is, and to consider it 
as something inanimate and passive, the state of which 
can be altered only by the action of some external cause. 
The liabitual use of the metaphorical word motives, to 
denote the intentions or purposes, which accompany our 
voluntary actions, or, in other words, the ends which we 

* Bledsoe'a Examination, p. 54. 



160 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

have in view in the exercise of power intrusted to us, has 
a strong tendency to confirm ns in this error, by leading 
ns to assimilate in infancy the volition of a mind to the 
motion of a body, and the circumstances which give rise 
to this volition to the vis motrix by which the motion is 
produced." * 

OBJECTIVE AND SUBJECTIVE MOTIVES. 

The occasional causes, so called, or, more properly, 
motives, which influence us in our choices and volitions, 
are of two kinds, objective and subjective. The objective 
motive is the object chosen, or the object without our 
mind, in view of which we choose. The subjective mo- 
tive is the feeling, or state of mind, which prompts us to 
choose. Thus, a man is induced to go to California in 
pursuit of gold. His objective motive in going is money ^ 
his subjective motive is the desire for the money. These 
two motives are correlative. The one is of no avail with- 
out the other. The gold would be no motive, without the 
desire for it; and the desire would be no motive, without 
the prospect of the gold. 

A man submits to a painful operation to save his life. 
The objective motive is his lifej the subjective motive is 
his desire to live. The prospect of saving his life would 
be no motive for submitting to the operation, if he were 
not desirous of living. 

A man leaves his business, and performs a long jour- 
ney, to be united in marriage with the object of his 
affection. His objective motive for the journey is the 
person whom. YiQ loves; his subjective motive is his love 
for her. The object of his love would be no motive for 
the journey, if there were no prospect of obtaining her; 

* Phil., p. 25. 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 161 

and the prospect of obtaining her would be no motive, if 
he did not love her. 

Thus the Creator has made the world without us to 
correspond to the world within us. Rational acts of will 
are in view of objective motives, and these motives are 
relevant to the subjective motives or feelings of the mind. 
Tliere is then a regular law of action in the mental as well 
as in the material universe. 

But motives do not control the will, according to the 
law of cause and effect in the natural world. The law is 
as regular in the one case as in the other, but it is not the 
same. In the one case, it is the law oi passive matter ; in 
the other, of active spirit. In the one case, there is no 
reason to perceive, and no will to choose; in the other 
case, there are both of these. 

When a live spark is thrown upon a trail of dry gun- 
powder communicating with a magazine, an explosion 
must follow, by an irresistible law of nature. There is no 
reason in the spark to foresee the disastrous effects, and 
no will to resist the explosion. But in the mind of him 
who threw the spark, there was reason to foresee the 
effect, and will by which he could decide against the act. 
His motives for firing the magazine may have been pow- 
erful; they may have been, so to speak, almost omnipo- 
tent ; but omnipotent they could not be, unless the will 
ceased to be will, at least in respect to that act. 

Thus every rational being has the responsible control 
of his own will. To say that he has this, is only saying 
that he wills for himself, and not another for him. He 
also wills, not by blind impulse, as effects take place in 
the natural world, but as an intelligent being-, ever bound 
to act in view of his responsibilities and duties. Hence, 
to will freely.^ is by no means the same thing as to will 
capriciously. The laws of the moral world are as certain 



162 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

and uniform as those of the natural. Responsible choice 
always implies intelligent design, having reference to that 
correlativeness of motives, which is as steady and uniform 
as the com'se of nature. Without such design, a man's 
volitions imply in him no more character than the pulsa- 
tions of the heart or the sports of the breezes. 

ni 

DISTINCTION BETWEEN THE WILL AND THE AFFECTIONS. 

Some distinguished authors have considered the affec- 
tions and the will, one and the same faculty. Thus Ed- 
wards says, " The affections are no other than the more 
vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will. 
The will and the affections of the soul are not two facul- 
ties; the affections are not essentially distinct from the 
will, nor do they differ from the mere actings of the ml] 
and inclination, but only in the liveliness and sensibility 
of the exercise."^ 

But this celebrated author was not here attempting a 
minute psychological analysis. He was considering the 
soul with simple reference to a point of religious doctrine, 
under two general divisions, understanding and will ; thus 
merging all the intellective faculties into the former, and 
all the motive into the latter. 

" Li the general division of our faculties into under- 
standing and will," says Reid, "our passions, appetites, 
and affections, are comprehended under the will; and so 
it is made to signify not only om* determination to act or 
not to act, but every motive or incitement to action. It 
is this, probably, that has led some philosophers to repre- 
sent desire, aversion, hope, fear, joy, sorrow, all our appe- 
tites, passions, and affections, as different modifications of 
the will ; which, I think, tends to confound things which 
are very different." f 

* Works vol. v., p. 10. f Vol. IV., p. 6. 



THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS. 163 

Indeed Edwards himself finds it necessary sometimes to 
make the distinction. He calls the affections " immanent," 
the will " manent." " The former," he says, " remain in 
the mind without any immediate relation to any thing to 
be brought to pass in action; the latter respect some- 
thing to be done." 

THE "WILL AND THE AFFECTIONS HAVE DIFFEKENT OBJECTS. 

The affections have teings for their object, the will has 
relations, duties, interests. We love friends ; we choose 
their society. A woman loves a child; she chooses to 
adopt it. A man loves a person ; he chooses her as his 
wife. The people of a parish love the man, whom they 
choose as their pastor. Thus the will sustains to the 
affections, in this particular, the same relation which the 
desires do. Both the desires and the will have things for 
their object, while the affections repose only in living heings. 

The will can resist the affections and desires. — Instead 
of being the same with the will, the affections and desires 
are only motives of action, which the responsible person 
may or may not adopt. He is at liberty to determine to 
indulge or to refuse them. 

First, the will can resist the affections. "We have seen 
that the affections have respect only to their specific ob- 
ject; whilst a man may choose, with reference to all the 
circiimstanGes, within the range of his mental vision. 
Plence the saying, " Love is blind." It regards only its 
particular object. When we see a person congenial to us, 
our affections flow spontaneously towards that person, 
without regard to circumstances or results. But, guided 
by an enlarged view and a sense of duty, we may refuse 
an improper indulgence of the affections. We may not 
be able to exterminate the affection ; it may be a part of 



164: MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

our nature ; but we can resist it, so far as to refrain from 
any wrong executive choice to which it may prompt us. 

Secondly, the will can resist the desires. Whatever 
be a man's desires, he may always see reasons enough for 
controlling them as he ought; motives enough, if he duly 
regards them, for choosing the path of duty. But if he 
will not consider, and will heed neither the voice of pru- 
dence nor the admonitions of conscience, he must then, of 
course, be a creature of mere irnpulse; a thing^ to be 
moved only as the machine carries him. 

What we have here said of the affections and desires, is 
equally true of all the subordinate impulses. The will, as 
an executive faculty, is alike distinct from them all, and 
the responsible man is bound to employ it in the way most 
effectual to their due control and direction. The conflict 
may sometimes be severe, especially with a disordered ap- 
petite ; but no demand of appetite, of passion, of affection, 
or of desire, can ever be so urgent, as to exonerate him 
from the duty of bringing them all into subjection to the 
laws of morality. 



PART III. 

MORAL ACTION. 



CHAPTEE I. 



MORALLY BIGHT AFFECTION. 

While natural affection is a mere spontaneous outburst 
of the heart, the work of the Creator in us, moral affection 
is in the keeping and service of conscience and the re- 
sponsible will. When a person becomes practically con- 
scientious in the exercise of affection, controlling it with a 
regard to duty, the affection is not only amiable, but 
morally Hght. It is not only what the mere animal 
naturally does exercise, but what a rational and accounta- 
ble being ought to exercise. 

E'ot only do natural affections thus become invested 
with moral quality, but entirely new affections may be 
called into existence. 

Moral affection is a complex feeling. That we may 



166 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

understand its varions modifications due to different 
beings, we must analyze it. 
. It includes, 

1. A perception of something pleasing in its object. 

2. A cordial affection for Mm. 

3. An agreeable emotion towards him, attending the 
affection. 

4. A benevolent desire for his welfare. 

If only the first three conspire, the affection may be 
mere natural love ; but they are all united in the affection 
termed moral love. 

For reasons that will appear, these elements must not 
be confounded. The perceptive part belongs to the intel- 
lect. The affection and the emotion coexist, but are not 
the same thing. A person may, at one time, have very 
lively emotion, accompanying feeble affection ; at another 
time, he may have very deep and strong affection, at- 
tended with little emotion. 

Emotion springs into life quicHy; affection is the 
growth of time. With young lovers, emotion predomi- 
nates ; after they have been long and happily united, affec- 
tion predominates. At first, they love more ardently ^ 
in subsequent years, more affectionately. The same law 
holds in all other affections. The young Christian has 
usually more vivid emotion^ than he has after years of 
religious experience ; but his pious affection may be con- 
tinually growing deeper and stronger. 

Moral affection is a ^iQdidij principle of the heart, under 
control of the enlightened conscience. The emotion at- 
tending it does not depend merely upon the clearness of 
the perception, or the strength of the affection, but upon 
various exciting causes in the object and in circumstances. 
It is affected by age, by the state of health, by the weather, 
by the concurrence of pleasing or of disagreeable events. 



MORAL ACTION. 167 

The desire for the welfare of those we love, is a still 
more distinct element. We may most earnestly desire 
the welfare of a person, whose character is such that we 
can have little complacency in him. Indeed we may be 
able to find nothing in him to engage our interest, bnt the 
fact that he is a human being. Besides, as has been shown 
in a previous chapter, affection and desire respect differ- 
ent objects; the former having beings for its object; 
the latter, things. "We love the person; we desire his 
welfare. 

The above analysis will enable us to understand the 
various fnodifications of love. When the first element 
predominates, attended with little feeling, the love is very 
Intelligent and discriminating. When the second element 
is decisive and strong, the love is characterized by sincerity 
and earnestness. When the third element is excessive, 
the love becomes a weak fondness, and sometimes a blind 
passion. If it is unaccompanied by the last element, it 
degenerates to mere lust. This is the name for selfish 
passion. If the fourth element predominates, with very 
little of the second and third, the love is chiefly benevo- 
lence, or good will. If accompanied with corresponding 
conduct, it rises to the virtue of beneficence. 

It will be seen, also, that love indicating the same 
moral excellence, is of various modifications according to 
the natm-e of the beings we love, and according to om^ 
relations with them. The love of a parent for a child, is 
not like the love of a child for the parent. Conjugal love 
differs^ from either. Still unlike all the others is true love 
to God. 

ONLY LOVE IS A EIGHT AFFECTION. 

Love and hatred are opposed to each other ; the former 
being the morally right and the latter the morally wrong 



L68 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

affection. We shall in the next chapter see reasons for 
concluding that hatred is never right. "We are now con- 
cerned with its opposite, love. It is right to love dil 
beings, not excepting our enemies, or even the worst of 
men. But the love should correspond to its object. The 
proofs that love is always the right affection are the fol- 
lowing : 

1. Love is instinctive to the human mind. The dispo- 
sition is strictly natural. It is the work of God in us ; the 
normal state of affection. We were made to love. Chil- 
dren love before they hate ; and except as they are per- 
verse they do not hate at all, unless some unfriendly being 
comes in their way. Whether they ought then to hate, 
we are not now to inquire ; for our only point here is to 
show that they are naturally inclined to love. It is only 
necessary to be with a child for a short time, exhibiting 
no unfriendliness, to secure his love. Indeed we are so 
constituted that we must love, or be miserable. But we 
have no such necessity to hate. This proves that we were 
made to love. 

2. The loving affection is a hwpjpy one. It is always 
a source of enjoyment. " The sentiment of love is in itself 
agreeable to the person who feels it. It soothes and com- 
poses the breast, seems to favor the vital motions, and to 
promote the healthful state of the human constitution; 
and it is rendered still more delightful by the conscious- 
ness of the gratitude and satisfaction which it must excite 
in him who is the object of it. Their mutual regard ren- 
ders them happy in one another, and sympathy, with this 
mutual regard, makes them agreeable to every other per- 
son."* If then the Being who made us wills our happi- 
ness, love is the right affection. 

* Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiment, p. 80. 



MOEAL ACTION. 169 

3. Conscience approves of the benevolent affection. 
Men never feel condemned for loving their fellow-beings, 
even their enemies. They often feel condemned for hating, 
but never for loving ; unless the love is an impure affec- 
tion. On the contrary, every man is conscious of a feeling 
of self-approbation, when he returns love for hatred and 
good for evil. 

4. The believer in Christianity finds conclusive proof 
of the same, in its teachings. "Love all men." "Love 
your enemies." " Render not evil for evil." "K ye love 
your friends only, what thank have ye? " "Let us love 
one another; for love is of God." Lideed this affection is 
the crowning excellence of God himself. " God is love." 
To love all beings, the evil as well as the good, enemies 
as well as friends, is, according to Christianity, to be like 
our Father in heaven. 

Having thus shown that love is always the right affec- 
tion, we shall for the present leave the proof that the 
opposite, hatred, is always wrong, and proceed to explain 
the various modifications of love due to different leings, 

THE AFFECTION DUE TO GOD. 

It does not belong to our present task to adduce the 
formal proofs of the Divine existence, but for the present 
assuming that there is a God, such as Christianity reveals, 
we are to indicate the affection due to Him. We see in 
Him all that is worthy to receive our highest and most 
absolute homage. We have revealed to our faith an 
infinite Being, perfect and glorious in all his attributes. 
His love, his pity, his forbearance, his compassion, his 
justice, all absolutely infinite and unchanging, are under 
the guidance of an all-embracing and unerring wisdom. 
He is a Being of spotless purity, of transcendent holiness, 
of boundless benevolence. 
8 



170 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

He lives and reigns to do good. He sits npon the 
throne of the universe, not as an arbitrary monarch, not 
to subserve selfish ends, but to protect the sacred interests 
of righteousness and sustain its everlasting laws. He is 
hence just such a Being as all upright creatures would 
choose for their moral guardian and ruler. 

But while he thus reigns in infinite and unbending 
righteousness, while justice and judgment are the habita- 
tion of his throne, he has jet an eye to pity every sorrow, 
and a heart to feel for every woe. The sublime and 
awful glory of his holiness, is equalled only by the tender- 
ness of his pity and the gentleness of his compassion. 
ISTot a sparrow falls to the ground without his notice, and 
his tender mercies are over all his works. 

That Being is ouk own God. He is the Maker of our 
frame and the Father of our spirit. He made us in his 
own likeness, to love and enjoy him for ever. To him we 
are indebted, not only for our existence, but for all that 
makes om- existence a blessing. All that is desirable in the 
life that now is, and all that may be hopeful in the life to 
come, we owe to him. 

He is not far oiF, like some earthly monarch, that we 
cannot approach him. He is ever with us. In him we 
live and move and have our being. We realize his power 
and goodness in every beating pulse, in every breath that 
is dealt out to us, in all the warm cmTcnts of life and joy 
that fiow through our frames. 

Although he is "the great and dreadful God," yet he 
condescends, in his Spirit and with his Word, to dwell in 
every one of us, to enlighten our consciences, to guide our 
steps, to warn us against every wrong way ; to uphold our 
steps, to bear oui* burdens, to comfort our afflictions, to 
pity our sorrows, and cheer us with the hope of immortal 
life. 



MOEAL ACTION. ITI 

He is also perpetually round about us and ccmmuning 
with us, in his works and providential dealings. The 
heavens declare his glory, and the well-ordered seasons 
ever speak of him ; seed-time and harvest, day and night, 
summer and winter, are all eloquent of his praise; all 
lands and seas are full of the riches of his goodness ; every 
sunbeam and every breeze comes to us laden with his love. 

'Now the question is, What is the affection due to such 
a Being? All must see, that it should be supreme, rever- 
ential, filial, grateful, constant, and commanding. Tliis 
need not be argued ; it is only necessary to explain these 
qualities, and every conscience will approve of them. 

1. SiJPKEME. By this is meant, that w^e should love 
God more than any other being. He should be the first 
great object of our affection; we should have no othei 
gods before him. There is more m him to love, than in 
any other being, or in all others combined. He is worthy 
of our supreme love ; no other being is. Then the relor 
tions he sustains to us, as our Creator, our Heavenly Fa- 
ther, our Upholder and Moral Guardian, our Redeemer 
and our final Judge, all proclaim that to him alone our 
highest homage is and must be for ever due. 

2. Revekential. To exercise towards this great and 
glorious Being the same fond and familiar affection which 
we may towards a fellow-creature, would be impious and 
profane. Such homage as this, we should not dare to 
render even to an earthly monarch. Our affection for 
God should be deep, strong, calm, earnest; the cordial 
surrender of the entire soul in supreme homage to him; 
but it should be ever characterized with the profoundest 
humility, awe, and reverence. Hence familiar epithets, 
such as dear God, should be publicly used with caution, 
if we would not offend the proprieties of religion and of 
good taste. 



172 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

3. Filial. Still our affection for God should partake 
much of the filial quality. He is more than merely our 
Creator and Benefactor ; he is our Heavenly Father. As 
he has for us, although in a higher and purer sense, the 
feelings of an earthly parent for his offspring, so we should 
exercise towards him the feelings of confiding and devoted 
children. Our love to God should be complacent and 
emotional, trustful and gladsome, as well as affectionate 
and devout. It should lead us to delight in him, so that 
we should esteem every other pleasurable emotion of small 
value, compared with that of beholding his face in beauty. 

4. Grateful. "We sustain to God the relation of de- 
pendent and helpless beings to an infinite Benefactor. 
We ought, therefore, to love him not only for what he is, 
and for what he has done, but for what he has done/I?/* us. 
JN^or is this, as some have supposed, a selfish affection, if 
we also truly love God for what he is. It modifies and 
enhances that love. It is a feeling of obligation, blending 
with the feeling of love, and inciting the soul to a higher 
reach of affection. It leads us to inquire what returns we 
should make for these stupendous gifts. Its language is, 
"What shall I render to the Lord for all his benefits 
toward me? I will take the cup of salvation and call 
upon the name of the Lord ; I will pay my vows now in 
the presence of all his people." This is any thing but a 
selfish homage. 

5. Constant. From the nature of the human mind 
its emotions must vary, and even its affections cannot be 
always the same. Yet there is an affection, which is like 
the great and deep river, ever flowing in the same direc- 
tion and into the same sea, although not always equally 
full and rapid. Such is the affection due to God. Him- 
self ever the same, he is ever equally worthy of our 
supreme love. 



MOEAL ACTION. 173 

1^0 good reason can exist why we should love him less 
to-day than at any previous time ; on the contrary, as our 
knowledge of him increases, and we have an ever-growing 
experience of his benefits, our constant love should be 
constantly increasing ; like the river receiving tributaries, 
and thus perpetually enlarging, through its entire long 
way to the ocean. 

To vary our illustration, true love to God is like that 
mysterious power which holds the planets in firm allegi- 
ance to the sun. In some parts of their orbits they are 
nearer to the sun, and move faster than at others; but 
their hold upon the glorious object of their devotion is 
never relaxed for a moment. Such should be the con- 
stancy of our love to God. 

6. CoMMAisTDiNG. A mere immanent affection, which 
loses itself in pleasant meditations and rapturous excite- 
ments, without inducing conformity of life to the divine 
law, is not the love due to our Heavenly Father. The 
right affection is commanding j and its commands are 
obeyed. It bids its subject do God's wdll; and he does it. 
It thus rules the heart and conduct. 

It calls into steady and effective action the fourth ele- 
ment of moral love, the desire; it thus becomes a benevo- 
lent jprincijple^ lasting as existence. Emotion may rise 
and fall, but the affection abides in the heart ; the prin- 
ciple of allegiance, the supreme desire and purpose to 
please God, is ever there. " This is the love of God, that 
ye keep his commandments." Thus the evidence of true 
love to God must be found in a course of life essentially 
conformed to the divine law. 

Such is the affection due to God. It is as truly a 
moral as a religious affection. We clearly see, in the 
light of pure morality, that it is such an affection as we 
ought to render him. However right with his fellow- 



174: MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

beings, in the view of a mere secular morality, no man is 
morally right with God, unless he renders to him the 
homage which we have described. 

EIGHT DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS. 

Under this general head we include conjugal, parental, 
filial, and fraternal affections. They all have their springs 
in nature, but they should be regulatea by moral principle. 
Unless they are so, beautiful as they are by nature, they 
may become by perversion instruments of evil. They are 
all to be kept in subordination to the higher affection due 
to God. He who loves even father or mother more than 
God, is guilty of a moral wrong in respect to the most 
important of all relations. 

1. CoNJTGAL Affection. The affection subordinate 
only to the love due to God, is that which belongs to the 
conjugal union. The parties united in marriage are bound 
to love each other more than any other human being. 
Before this union existed, the filial affection claimed 
supremacy; now the conjugal supersedes it. "For this 
cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and be 
joined unto his wife, and they twain shall be one flesh." 

Conjugal love should fully embrace all the elements 
of moral affection. The love which nature furnished; 
which was in the hearts of the parties before they were 
united and which led to the union, must now be taken into 
the custody of conscience, to be controlled, nourished, per- 
fected, by moral principle. With the deep and growing 
affection must continue the complacent delight, which will 
ever make the parties happy in each other, and these must 
be attended with such benevolent desires for each other's 
welfare, as shall prompt every needful effort and sacrifice 
to promote it. 



MOEAL ACTION. 175 

Thus the affection, which was at first, perhaps, little 
else than a complacent fondness, gradually grows to a 
full-orbed and shining love ; in the warmth and the light 
of which the happy pair move on together in life's journey, 
mutually blessing and blessed. 

Pakental Affection. 'Next to the affection which 
parents owe to each other, is that due to their offspring. 
To aid and prompt them in this duty, the Creator has 
kindly implanted a natural affection ; and it is their duty 
so to cherish and direct it, as to secure the best v/elfare 
of their child. It is not the love of mere fondness, which 
is demanded. This will blind them to their child's faults, 
and render them too indulgent. 

Parental affection should be characterized by deep, 
steady, patient benevolence; otherwise the complacent 
emotion, with which the fond parent contemplates his 
children, may render him a most unfaithful guardian. It 
should be a sympathetic, enduring, and conscientious love, 
which is not blind to their faults, but forbearing ; which 
firmly denies them what is wrong or injurious; which 
chastises, if need be, but not in anger; which encourages 
every virtuous endeavor ; which anticipates every want ; 
which seeks to guide, cheer, educate, and train up to a 
virtuous and elevated life, the precious beings intrusted 
to its care. 

Filial Affection. The affection of the child for his 
parents, should have much resemblance to that which we 
owe to God. It is the love of a young, inexperienced, 
dependent being, for those to whom, under God, he owes 
his existence, and on whom he is dependent for support 
and guidance. Hence his love should be confiding and 
grateful, respectful and obedient. As parental love seeks 
to benefit the child, so filial love should seek to please the 
parent. 



176 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

^Filial aifection is not supplanted by marriage. An- 
other affection supervenes, to whicli it is relatively subor- 
dinate, but it should be absolutely as strong as before. 
The parent who gives a dutiful child in marriage, does 
not lose that child, but gains another. 

The true filial affection seeks to repay the debt incurred 
in childhood ; to do for the parent in age and feebleness, 
what, the parent did for the child in infancy and helpless- 
ness; it honors the parent's gray hairs, supports his feeble 
steps, smooths the furrows ploughed in his face by care 
and time ; it watches tenderly around his sick bed, pours 
its soothing voice into his dying ear ; and it never forgets 
to drop tears, fresh and warm from the heart, over his grave. 

Fraternal Affection. The natural affection of the 
children of the same family for each other, important as 
it is, proves to be entirely inadequate to secure the welfare 
of the household, unless it is sustained and wielded by an 
enlightened conscience. Brothers and sisters cannot be 
too early and earnestly taught, that it is their duty to love 
each other, and to do all in their power to promote each 
other's present and prospective welfare. 

Tlie family is the smallest and most compact of all 
communities ; hence the interests of its members are very 
closely interwoven. There is no avoiding collision, irrita- 
tion, contention, but by that deep and steady affection 
which duty enjoins, and which makes every member as 
desirous of another's welfare as his own. Children trained 
to this principle, through the whole period of their minor- 
ity, will not fail to make good members of that larger 
community, for which they are destined in future life. 

EIGHT SOCIAL AFFECTION. 

The modifications of affection due to our neighbors, 
and to our fellow-beings generally, depend upon various 



MOEAL ACTIOK. 177 

circumstances. "We cannot love all alike. We naturally 
feel the most affection for those with whom we have been 
most associated. This is well. But we are not required 
to love even those with the same affection. 

There is a congeniality of tastes, temperaments, pur- 
suits, which inclines us to love some more than others, 
and thus leads to what are called special friendships. 
These are not only natural, but morally right, so long as 
they do not become exclusive. So soon as they are 
allowed to narrow the soul and slmi off the affection that 
is due to others, they become selfish and pernicious. We 
may love our particular friends as much as we please, if 
we still love all our fellow-beings as we ought. 

It was evidently intended that these particular friend- 
ships should exist. The foundation for them is laid in the 
diversity of tastes and callings ; and it would be impossible 
to bestow those special attentions upon all, which are 
necessary to keep alive a particular friendship and to 
gratify its wants. Hence all have the right to select their 
intimate friends, with whom they visit and exchange hos- 
pitalities, and to whom they intrust their most sacred 
sympathies ; and none may complain of this, or indulge 
jealousy and envy, since the same privilege is freely 
granted to all. 

It is thus that the pure and refined virtues of social 
friendship, so productive of human happiness, are fostered 
and protected. When friends thus love one another 
" with pure hearts fervently," when they heartily recipro- 
cate each other's feelings and seek each other's welfare, 
and when they consecrate their mutual love to the will 
and service of God, they may hope to perpetuate their 
friendship and minister to each other's joy in a future 
state of being. This is the true idea of a Christian church; 
anticipating upon earth the full fruition of heaven. 
8* 



178 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 



EIGHT AFFECTION TOWAEDS BAD WEN. 

We ♦cannot feel towards bad men the same affection 
which we do towards good men. True love is and ought 
to be discriminating. It mnst see reasons for loving ; and 
if it sees any in a bad man, it certainly sees more in a 
good man. Hence the affection must be different. 

The only question is, ought we to love bad men at all ? 
Tliey may not be worthy of our love, in point of character ; 
but it does not follow that we should not love them. K 
our Heavenly Father loved none but those who are worthy 
of his love, it is to be feared that few of us would have a 
place in his heart. Is there not something, even in the 
very worst man, that is a reason why we should love him ? 
There may not be in his character, but is there not in his 
humanity ? He is our brother, fallen and wretched, but 
still our brother. Then should not our hearts yearn 
towards him? 

He was made in the likeness of God, as a rational 
being. He is the same being still. The divine image is 
still there ; marred and defaced, but not annihilated. The 
glorious moral likeness to God has departed, but some- 
thing of the primitive humanity remains. And is not 
that interesting to us ? The divine mind so regards it, and 
so must we, if we would be the children of God. Yes, 
there is something in the man, however bad he may be, 
because he is a man, that calls for our affection. 

We may abhor his character; we maybe disgusted 
with his vices ; but we should cherish the kindred regard 
for the man. This affection should be pitiful and benevo- 
lent, leading us to do all in our power to reclaim and save 
him. If we turn from him with a frowning and pharisa- 
ical spirit ; if we utterly despise him, and cast him out of 



MORAL ACTION. 179 

our sympathies to perish in his guilt ; we are false to our- 
selves, and false to our brother. So did not Jesus Christ ; 
and are not his spirit and life the perfection of all morality? 



EIG-HT AFFECTION TOWARDS OrE ENEMIES. 

We now come to perhaps the most trying of all the 
duties of morality. Ought we to love our enemies? Some 
have boldly asserted that this is impossible, and have on 
this ground challenged the precepts of Christianity. That 
it is very difficult, we admit; but it is not impossible, for 
it has been done. ITot only did Jesus Christ do it, but 
many thousands have imbibed his benignant spirit, and 
experienced the divine luxury of doing the same, in some 
humble measure. It implies self-denial, which is always 
hard to practise; yet often a duty on which life itself 
depends. 

Heathen philosophers might pronounce it impossible, 
and expunge it from their moral code ; but we, who may 
have the spirit and teachings of Christ to guide us, have 
no apology for so doing. Without this grace from on high, 
we might never aspire to this highest of moral virtues ; 
but with it, we should at least make the attempt. 

Suppose, then, a man to be our bitter and avowed 
enemy, and that too when we have done him no harm. 
He is wholly in fault, and we are entirely innocent. We 
thus assume the strongest imaginable case. We certainly 
cannot feel complacent towards his conduct; but he is 
still a man, a fellow-being; unreasonable, perverse, crim- 
inal, but still our brother. We should then separate the 
conduct from the man, think of him as God made him, 
and we may still find something to love. In the man, 
apart from his conduct, there is something that should 
engage the affection of every rational being. It is im 



180 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

possible, we grant, to love him as we do a friend; but 
there is a 'benevolent affection which we should not with- 
hold, even from an enemy. 

We are greatly aided in this duty, by considering how 
Christ loved us^ even while we were "yet enemies." He 
had never done us any harm; we were entirely in fault; 
and yet so great was his love for us, that he laid down his 
life to save us. And despite of all our multiplied offences 
against him, he still loves us with the tenderness of a 
brother. 

We owe a duty here to ourselves^ as well as to our 
enemy. By cherishing hatred and revenge, we injure our 
own character. By cherishing a forgiving spirit, by 
seeking to bring him to repentance, and to promote his 
welfare, we nourish in our own hearts the purest and 
noblest feelings; while, at the same time, we take the 
most effectual means to convince him of his fault, to 
disarm his enmity, to reform his conduct, and to make 
him our friend. 

And this is our duty. K we are utterly disinclined to 
do it, except as we receive the proffered grace of Chris- 
tianity, then we should accept that grace. Whether Chris- 
tianity is proved to be from heaven or not, if she disposes 
us to do what is rights we should accept the precious boon. 
l!To man's conscience ever condemned him for accepting 
that grace, which inclines him to love his enemies and to 
seek their welfare. And we should add, no man who has 
done so, has ever failed to become thereby a better and a 
happier man. 

PHILANTHROPY. 

Philanthropy, as the name imports, is the benevolent 
affection embracing all mankind. In this sense, every 
man is bound to be a philanthropist, l^or may his love 



MOEAL ACTION. 181 

for the human race exhaust itself in mere sentiment. It 
should be active and self-sacrificing, commanding our 
earnest endeavors to relieve the sufferings and improve 
the condition of our less favored fellow-beings. 

Christianity is eminently a philanthropic system. 
It seeks to render all men wise and happy. Every true 
Christian is both in theory and in practice a philanthropist. 
But as the powers of man are limited, and his first duties 
are naturally to himself, his family, his neighborhood, and 
his country, it may be only his good will and fervent 
prayer, that he can bestow upon large portions of man- 
kind. 

It is not, however, a disposition of general good will 
to men, attended with scattered and miscellaneous efforts 
for their welfare, that gives to a man sulSficient notoriety 
to mark him as a philanthropist. The man to whom the 
public award this name, concentrates his efforts upon 
some great benevolent enterprise. To this he devotes his 
talents and his substance. He thus, like Howard, or Wil- 
berforce, makes his mark upon the world, and proves the 
sincerity and earnestness of his benevolence. His philan- 
thropy may have an eminently Christian type, like that 
of the faithful missionary, devoting talents, property, and 
life itself, to spreading the Gospel among the nations. 



^ CHAPTER n. 

MOKALLY WBONG AFFECTION. 

We have seen, in tlie previous chapter, that true love^ or 
the benevolent affection, is always morally right. "We are 
now to see that its opposite, hatred^ or the malevolent affec- 
tion, is always morally wrong. As the present writer is 
constrained to take a somewhat different view upon this 
subject from many others, and among them distinguished 
classical authors, it is due both to the subject and to them 
to examine it with care. 

My opinion is that every malevolent affection has moral 
quality, that it is of man and not of God, and is morally 
wrong. I do not believe that it exists in God ; that it 
existed in man when created in God's likeness ; that it 
existed in the heart of Jesus Christ ; or that it ever ought 
to exist in the heart of any human being. 

VIEWS OF EEID AND OTHEES. 

We will here quote from only two or three of the more 
distinguished books used in educational institutions and 
regarded as standard authorities. '' Are there in the con- 
stitution of man," says Reid, "any affections that may be 



MORAL ACTION. 183 

called malevolent f What are they ? and what is their use 
and end? To me there seem to be two, which we may 
call by that name. They are emulation and resentinent. 
These I take to be parts of the human constitution, given 
us by our Maker for good ends; and, when properly 
directed and regulated, of excellent use." * 

Stewart adopts nearly the same view, classing emulation 
among the desires. "It may be doubted," he says, "if 
there be any principle of this kind (malevolent) implanied 
by nature in the mind, excepting the principle of resent- 
mjent j the others being ingrafted on this stock by oui* 
erroneous opinions of criminal habits." f Most wiiters 
have taken a similar view ; some of them giving a much 
wider range to the malevolent affection. 

The principle of emulation we shall consider under the 
head of Desire. We are now to examine the principle of 
resentment. The writers quoted above, and others, as we 
shall see hereafter, have argued in favor of this as a con- 
stitutional principle in man, from the fact that hrutes 
manifest it.:j: It is said to be their defence. And so also 
they manifest other dispositions, which are proper and 
useful in irrational creatures, but which in rational beings 
must be condemned; for rational beings have other and 
higher means of defence and protection. 

Who would infer that because certain animals practise 
a kind of instinctive deceit, and others get angry and fight 
and kill, that man was made to do the same ? It is not 
wrong in brutes to resent injuries, for this is their only 
means of defence ; but it by no means follows that it is 
not wrong in man to do so, who was made in the image 
of his Maker. 

* Works, vol. rV., p. 110. f Active and Moral Powers, p. 86. 

X See Reid's Works, vol. IV., p. 118. Also, Whewell's Elements, vol. I. 
p. 50. 



184 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Adam Smith contends for the principle of resentment 
in the following language: "A person becomes con- 
temptible, who tamely sits still, and submits to insults, 
without attempting either to repel or to revenge them. 
We cannot enter into his indifference and insensibility. 
We call his behavior mean-spiritedness, and are as really 
provoked by it, as by the insolence of his adversary. 
Even the mob are enraged to see any man submit pa- 
tiently to affronts and ill usage. Tliey desire to see this 
insolence resented, and resented by the person who suffers 
from it. They cry to him with fury to defend, or to 
revenge himself. K his indignation rises at last, they 
heartily applaud, and sympathize w^ith it. It enlivens 
their own indignation against his enemy, whom they 
rejoice to see him attack in turn, and they are as really 
gratified by his revenge, provided it is not immoderate, 
as if the injury had been done to themselves."* 

There is some truth in the above remarks, but it is 
presented in such a form and connection as to encourage, 
in my opinion, feelings and conduct at variance with the 
sound principles of morality. The remarks do indeed 
express a very common fact^ but an appeal to the desire, 
sympathy, and gratified revenge, of "the mob^^ to settle 
a grave and momentous question of moral right, is not in 
very good keeping with the subject. Arguments from 
this source would prove fatal to all moral truth and 
duty. 

To the believer in Christianity, any refutation of the 
above sentiments would seem to be superfluous. They 
harmonize very imperfectly with the life and teachings of 
Him, "who, when he was reviled, reviled not again, when 
he suffered, he threatened not, but committed himself to 

* Theory of Moral Sentiment, p. 25. 



MOEAL ACTION. 185 

Him that judgeth righteously."* Jesus Christ never in- 
dulged the spirit of resentment, and expressly forbade it 
in others. His language is too explicit to be mistaken. 
" Love your enemies ; do good to them which hate you ; 
bless them that curse you, and pray for them which de- 
spitefully use you. And unto him that smiteth thee on 
the one cheek, offer also the other." 

Every thing like that resentment which, it is said, "we 
like to see," and which is claimed as a "purely constitu- 
tional principle," is absolutely condemned by the lan- 
guage, as it was also by the life, of Jesus Christ. The 
consistent believer in Christianity is therefore compelled 
to think that, however plausible the speculations of these 
writers, there is yet some serious error in them. 

It is with the view of detecting this error, if it exists, 
that we proceed with our inquiry. We are bound, as 
philosophers, to settle the question, not by an exclusive 
appeal to the precepts of Christianity, whose authority 
may be by some questioned, but upon its own merits. It 
should not be forgotten, however, that every principle of 
morality, as it is found to harmonize with Christianity, 
not only adds new lustre to the evidence of Christianity 
as a revelation from God, but receives from it greatly 
augmented force and authority. 

We may come at the merits of the question by put- 
ting it in two forms. Do we need any such principle 
as resentment? And have we positive proof that such a 
principle exists, as a part of our mental constitution? The 
former question anticipates the latter ; for if it should be 
evident that we do not need the element in question, the 
presumption would be that it was not originally implanted 
in us. But this is only presumption, and each question 
must be examined by itself. 



186 MOEAli PHILOSOPHY. 



RESENTMENT TJNNECESSAIIY. 



"We must distinguish between resentment and self- 
defence. The principle of self-defence is instinctive and 
highly important. It is a moral duty to obey this instinct, 
and defend ourselves from harm. But this we may do 
without any malevolence towards the aggressor. 

To seek to defend ourselves from harm, is one thing; 
to seek, with malevolent intent, to injure him who has 
harmed us, is quite another. The former is self-defence ; 
the latter is resentment. The former we believe to be 
morally right ; the latter, morally wrong. 

If a man attacks our person or our character, we have 
a right to do all that is necessary to defend ourselves from 
injury. If the result is fatal to his life or reputation, the 
fault is not om'S. If we did right, we did not injure him 
with a spirit of resentment, but of pure self-defence. We 
only did what our safety and the common welfare de- 
manded, ^o resentment, retaliation, or revenge, was in 
our heart; on the contrary, it was in our heart to pity 
and to pray for him. While seeking to protect ourselves, 
we desii-ed him no evil; but we wished him to see the 
wrongfulness of his way, and to forsake it. 

This is true self-defence. It is instinctive, moral, and 
Christian. That is, in so doing, we are, in both a moral 
and a Christian view, true to a primitive instinct of our 
natm^e. But when we allow the spirit of malicious re- 
sentment to supervene, we are false to that instinct, and 
charge to its account what is really a part of our moral 
perverseness. 

But ought not the guilty to be punished ? Perhaps so ; 
but the injured one is not ordinarily the proper person 
to do it. Much less ought he to do it from a principle 



MOEAJL ACTION. 187 

of resentment. As a man is a partial judge of liis own 
wrongs, civil government has taken the business of re- 
dressing them out of his hands, and placed it in the hands 
of an impartial tribunal. 

The divine government, also, to rebuke the fell spirit 
of resentment, has placed it, for final decision, in the sole 
charge of the Judge of all. "Avenge not yourselves, but 
rather give place unto wrath ; for it is written, Yengeance 
is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore, if thine 
enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him diink." 

We infer, therefore, that the 'principle of resentment is 
not needed in our mental constitution ; since all the pur- 
poses of self-defence, of punishment, and of the protection 
of the public welfare, can be better secured by other 
means. 

RESENTMENT NOT OKiaiNAL. 

If we do not need this principle, the presumption is 
that the Creator has not implanted it. Still the point is 
not to be decided a priori; it is a question of fact. The 
simple question is, on a careful analysis of the mental 
constitution, do we find in it any form of the malevolent 
element? Any principle^ whose obvious design was to 
lead Its to desire and to attempt the injury of our fellow- 
heings f This is the plain question. 

It proves nothing, to say, with the authors above cited 
and others, that brutes manifest the disposition to injure 
their enemies ; that many of our fellow-beings manifest 
the same, and "we are pleased to see them do so;" all 
this only proves that many rational beings are so false to 
their noble nature as to act like irrational brutes, and 
"we 2iYQ pleased'''' with such conduct. But who are the 
" we f " ]^ot all men, certainly ; for there are not a few, 
who regard such conduct in a very different light. 



188 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The question is not, what irrational brutes were mado 
to do, nor yet, what men actually do, but what we were 
made to do. 

Instinctive Kesentment. Bishop Butler has made a 
distinction, which others have adopted, between what he 
calls instinctive and deliberate resentment. But his 
instinctive resentment^ when examined, turns out to be 
nothing more than the mere instinct of self-defence. 
Sudden emergencies sometimes occur, in which we have 
no time to deliberate ; we must then act instinctively and 
instantaneously. There is not necessarily any malicious 
feeling in this, any more than there is in suddenly shut- 
ting the eyelids to keep out a mote. Whereas the wish 
to injure another must necessarily be, to some extent, 
intentional and deliberate. 

" The final cause (design) of instinctive resentment," 
says Stewart, " was plainly to defend us against sudden 
violence, when reason would come too late to our assist- 
ance, by rousing the powers both of mind and body to 
instant and vigorous exertion. A number of our other in- 
stincts are perfectly analogous to this. Such, for example, 
is the instinctive effort we make to recover ourselves when 
we are in danger of losing our balance, and the instinctive 
despatch with which we shut the eyelids when an object 
is made to pass rapidly before the face. In general it 
will be found, that, as nature has taken upon herself the 
care of our preservation during the infancy of our reason, 
so in every case in which our existence is threatened by 
dangers, against which reason is unable to supply a rem- 
edy with sufficient promptitude, she continues this guar- 
dian care through the whole of life." * 

]^ow this is precisely what we mean by the instinct 

* Active and Moral Po-wers, p. 89. 



MOEAL ACTION. 189 

of self-preservation, or self-defence, which we shall con- 
sider nnder its proper head. 'No man ever doubted the 
reality and importance of this instinct. 

Deliberate Kesentment. " The final cause (design) 
of this species of resentment," continues the above author, 
"is analogous to that of the other: to serve as a check on 
those men whose violent or malignant passions might lead 
them to disturb the happiness of their fellow-creatures." 

But if the affection is deliberate, it is not instinctive, 
and is hence of a moral nature. Deliberate resentment, 
then, must be one of these two things ; either deliberate 
self-defence, not involving any malevolence, and therefore 
morally right ; or deliberate retaliation, involving malevo- 
lence, and therefore morally wrong. 

The same writer adds : " In order to secure still more 
effectually so very important an end, we are so formed 
that the injustice offered to others, as well as to ourselves, 
awakens our resentment against the aggressor, and prompts 
us to take part in the redress of their grievances. In this 
case, the emotion we feel is more properly denoted in our 
language by the word indignation; but, as Butler has 
remarked, our principle of action is in both cases funda- 
mentally the same : an aversion, or displeasure at injustice 
and cruelty, which interests us in the punishment of those 
by whom they have been exhibited." 

" Kesentment, therefore, when restrained within due 
bounds, seems to be rather a sentiment of hatred against 
vice than an affection of ill-will against any of our fellow- 
creatures; and, on this account, I am somewhat doubtful, 
notwithstanding the apology I have already made for 
the title of this section, whether I have not followed 
Dr. Beid too closely in characterizing resentment, consid- 
ered as an original part of the constitution of man, by 
the epithet of malevolent. '^'^ " After all, however, that I 



190 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

have advanced in justification of this part of the human 
constitution, I must acknowledge that there is no prin- 
ciple of action which requires more pains, even in the 
best minds, to restrain it within the bounds of modera- 
tion."* 

It will be observed that the above writer here virtually 
concedes nearly all that we have claimed. The principle 
for which he contends, instead of implying any ill will or 
malevolence, which can be properly exercised only against 
heings^ is merely "a sentiment of hatred (aversion) against 
vice ; " which is a virtuous moral feeling. To be heartily 
opposed to all wrong-doing, and conscientiously to throw 
our entire sympathy in favor of law and of the injured, is 
more than a mere instinctive impulse ; it is a high moral 
virtue. 

That there is, in fact, much of retaliation, with its 
kindred affections, in the human character, is too evident ; 
but that such feelings are original elements of the mental 
constitution, has never been shown. On the contrary, 
they can be fully accounted for in other ways. They are 
a part of our moral jperverseness, condemned by the law 
of God and by every enlightened conscience. 

Malevolence of every kind is always attended with 
pain; a circumstance, doubtless, intended to guard us 
against it ; as the smart of a wound was designed to warn 
us against cutting our own flesh. 

After descanting upon the pure happiness arising from 
love, Adam Smith remarks, "It is quite otherwise with 
hatred and resentment. Too violent a propensity to these 
detestable passions, renders a person the object of univer- 
sal dread and abhorrence, who, like a wild beast, ought, 
we think, to be hunted out of all civil society." f ' v_..,^_ 

* Active and Moral Powers, p. 90. f Theory of Moral Sentiments. 



MOEAL ACTION. 191 

We could not desire stronger language than this 
against malevolent affections. It is no part of our task 
to attempt to reconcile it with what the same writer has 
said in other places ; it is sufficient to ask, who does not 
see the absurdity of speaking of " too violent a propensity 
to detestable ^passions f " If these passions are " detestable," 
as they truly are, there should be no propensity to them. 
Any propensity to a detestable passion is morally wrong. 
Hence the Creator, as a pure and good being, could not 
have implanted it in our constitution. Its origin must be 
human, not divine. 

"With this view the teachings of Christianity perfectly 
accord. They condemn every degree and form of malev- 
olent affection. But are we to suppose that the Creator 
has implanted a principle in our nature, which may never 
be called into action? This cannot be admitted. "We 
must then conclude, that the malevolent principle is no 
part of our mental constitution. We have an instinct, or 
purely natural propensity, to love ; but none, to hate. 
To love, is consonant with pure nature, and is therefore 
morally right ; to hate, is against that nature, and is there- 
fore morally wrong. 

It is said that David hated the wicked. Even if he 
did, it does not follow that we ought to do so. His con- 
duct is not in all cases an example for us. His language 
is indeed very strong. " Do not I hate them, O Lord, 
that hate thee, and am not I grieved with those that rise 
up against thee? I hate them with perfect hatred; I 
count them mine enemies." But it seems evident, on 
comparing these and similar expressions with his general 
teachings and life, that the hatred of which he speaks, 
did not include the malevolent affection ; but was merely 
an earnest exercise of the feeling of sympathy with his 
God, in defending the cause of righteousness. That his 



192 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

pious zeal was ever adulterated with a mixture of malevo- 
lence, we have no proof; but even if it was, this does not 
make it right. 

Those sacred scriptures which speak of God as hating 
the wicked, as being angry with them, &c., are not to be 
understood as implying any malevolent affection. They 
are bold expressions indicating his righteous abhorrence 
of wicked conduct, and his inflexible purpose, as the Moral 
Guardian of mankind, to sustain his laws. No student in 
oriental literature can be at a loss how to understand them. 



CONCLUDINa EEMAEKS. 

We conclude, then, that the principle of malevolence 
is no part of our mental constitution. As it is always 
right to love, so it is always wrong to hate. K this be so, 
then the demand of pure morality is here in perfect har- 
mony with that of Christianity. The law of morality re- 
quires us to love, and never to hate ; and Christ has taught 
us that love is the fulfilling of the law. To fulfil the great 
law of our being, then, it is only needful to love ; no hating 
whatever is needful. 

Christianity does not teach us to love our friends and 
hate our enemies. It does not inculcate "resentment," 
with the caution " to restrain it within due limits." It 
takes entirely different ground. It commands us to love 
all beings, at all times, and under all circumstances. JS^o 
provocation, however severe, can make it morally right 
for one rational being to hate another. 

What we have said of this particular fomi of malevo- 
lent feeling, is true of all its forms. They are all equally 
condemned, both by the principles of pure morality and 
the positive precepts of Christianity. Envy, hatred, 
revenge, &c., are all modifications of the malevolent 



MOEAL ACTION. 193 

affection ; none of tlieni belonged to man in innocence ; 
they are no part of his constitution ; they pertain to him 
only as a being fallen and perverse. 

To save ns from even an apology for personal resent- 
ment as a means of self-defence, the government of God, 
and, by his authority, human government, take the pun- 
ishment of our offenders out of our own hands ; thus ab- 
solving us from the necessity, under which irrational brutes 
exist, of retaliating our own wrongs. Our defence is placed 
in the hands of a higher and an impartial tribunal. Thus, 
knowing that if our cause is just our defence is ultimately 
sure ; that if an earthly tribunal fails to do us justice, a 
higher tribunal will not fail to do it ; while we abhor the 
conduct of our guilty foe, we may still extend to him our 
benevolent compassion, and seek his repentance and sal- 
vation. This only is true Christianity ; and this only is 
sound morality. 

It is not to be disputed that this is a hard and unpop- 
ular doctrine. It is not the current doctrine of writers 
upon this subject; not the doctrine generally taught in 
the schools ; and certainly not the doctrine upon which 
most men practise. Teachers of morals have here too 
often taken the wrong stand-point; they have deduced 
principles and duties from what man is, as a fallen being, 
rather than from what he was, as created by God. They 
have hence found it difficult to make their morality tally 
with the revealed law of God and the plain teachings of 
Christianity. 

But the time is not to be despaired of, when a higher 
and purer philosophy will prevail. Just in the degree 
that men see the divine beauty, and feel the benign in- 
fluence of Christianity, they will better understand them- 
selves and their duties. By the regenerating grace of the 
the gospel, which alone is adequate to the effect, the bit- 
9 



194 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ter root of hatred, in all its malignant forms, will be utter- 
ly destroyed. Its very remains, infected as they all are, 
with the poison of the serpent's tooth, shall be cast forth 
from the heart of man and eternally abandoned ; while 
love^ which alone fulfils the law^ the law of the soul's ne- 
cessities, the law of conscience, and the law of God, shall 
have the entire soul, to flourish there undisputed, unri- 
valled, and forever. 



CHAPTEE ni. 

MOKALLY EIGHT DESIRE. 

"While natural desire is purely constitutional, like the in- 
stinct of the brute, moral desire is a cherished principle 
of action, such as enlightened conscience approves or con- 
demns. In this chapter we are to consider those desires 
which are morally right. 

It will simplify our subject to include them in two 
generic classes ; those which relate to our own welfare, 
and those which relate to the welfare of others. 

DESIRES FOE OUE OWN WELFARE. 

As these desires have their natural origin in self-love, 
we must distinguish between this and selfishness. 

Self-love is that principle in man which leads him to 
seek what he judges to be for his good. It does not con- 
flict with the interests of others. It is entirely consistent 
with the desire for their welfare. It even blends with 
that desire, and increases its strength and activity. Only 
he who properly regards his own welfare, truly regards 
that of others. 

Selfishness is a term of opposition. It is the setting of 



196 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

one's own interest against that of others. Thus the selfish 
boy at plaj consults his own wishes, regardless of the 
feelings of his companions; the selfish man in business 
consults his own gains, regardless of the losses he may 
bring upon others ; the selfish politician consults his am- 
bitious schemes, regardless of the public good. Hence 
selfish desire is always wrong. 

Regard to our own welfare includes the desires of 
moral worthiness, intellectual attainments, health and 
vigor, and circumstantial advantages. 

Desere of Mokal Worthiness. — ^Perhaps no person is 
so thoroughly depraved, as not to have some desire for 
moral worthiness. Even if there were no other motive, 
the value of a good character and the influence which it 
confers, would naturally prompt him to desire it. Men 
perpetrate immoralities, not because they desire to be im- 
moral, but for some imagined pleasure, or advantage from 
them. 

Men steal, not for the sake of being thieves, but for 
the property stolen. They lie, not for the sake of being 
liars, but for the supposed advantage of the falsehood. 
They intoxicate, not for the sake of being drunkards, but 
for the pleasure of intoxication. In every such instance, 
they would usually be glad to separate the two, and to 
have the latter without the former. It is not until one 
has reached the most desperate stage of depravity, that he 
desires to be vicious for its own sake. 

But men do desire moral worthiness for its own sake. 
They desire not only to ajpjpear to be honest, just, temper- 
ate, pure, courageous, magnanimous, but actually to te 
so. This is a morally right desire. In accordance with 
the manifest design of our being, it must ever be approved 
by an enlightened conscience. 

The germ of this desire is natural, or at least rational. 



MORAL ACTION. 197 

If men do not attain to moral worthiness, it is not because 
they have not some desire, as rational beings, for such a 
character, but because they have a stronger desire for the 
pleasures of vice. They would be glad to have both, but 
they cannot ; hence there is a conflict of desires, in which 
the evil prevails. Often does the vicious man sigh, in 
the bitterness of his spirit, to see himself thus taking 
leave of virtue and sinking into merciless and degrading 
bondage. 

But let him give to the desire of moral worth the as- 
cendcmcy ; let it be made to control every vicious incli- 
nation ; and it becomes itself a moral excellence of high 
order. He who turns a deaf ear to all allurements of 
pleasure, gain, ambition, indolence, which conflict with 
his desire for personal worthiness of character, is a noble 
specimen of humanity. 

This desire is an essential element of Christian charac- 
ter, but does not of itself constitute that character. A man 
may have it without being a Christian, but he cannot be 
a Christian without it. Christianity, heartily embraced, 
elevates its aim and directs its efforts. When a man not 
only cherishes the effectual desire to practise all the virtues 
of morality, but also to devote them in supreme homage 
to God, he is more than merely moral ; he is also Christian. 

Ever conscious of being far below his standard, his de- 
sire is continually reaching higher and higher. He aspires 
to clearer and more enlarged views of truth and duty ; to 
greater purity of heart and consistency of life ; to more 
energy and constancy of purpose ; to more patience and 
perseverance in difficulties : to all the virtues which per- 
fect and adorn renovated humanity. Such a man is em- 
braced in the beatitude of Christ : " Blessed are they that 
hunger and thirst after righteousness / for they shall he 
filled:' 



198 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Desire of Intellectual Attainments. — ^The germ of 
this desire, also, is found in our rational nature. The 
principle of curiosity, or desire of knowledge, is natural 
to all men. But along with this desire, the conscientious 
man cherishes the feeling that he ought to cultivate his 
intellect, and to make the most he can of the talents with 
which he has been intrusted. He feels it to be as truly 
his duty to elevate his intellectual as his moral nature. 

This motive, like all other moral motives, operates as 
a regulator of the natural desires. Under its guidance, 
the student at school or college does not merely gratify 
his curiosity, by studying what he pleases, or by miscel- 
laneous reading, as his fancy may suggest ; but he gives 
himself conscientiously to the task of mastering his les- 
sons, with a view to the highest ultimate intellectual ad- 
vantage. 

It is well to feel the promptings of the constitutional de- 
sire for knowledge ; as all do, more or less. Without this, 
the duty of study would be as onerous a task as to eat 
without appetite. It is well, in a higher sense, to have 
this desire directed by a principle, which sacrifices present 
gratification, if need be, for the sake of securing the best 
mental discipline. 

The student is bound to seek the highest mental cul- 
ture in his power, and he can do this only upon principle. 
The false notion frequently obtains among his companions, 
that he is of course influenced by selfish ambition ; and 
so they shelter their indolence, or find an apology for 
spending their time in light reading, by claiming for 
themselves more honorable motives. But as every stu- 
dent is morally bound to do his best in mental culture, 
he who is striving to do so may le doing right, to say the 
least, while they who neglect to do so, are certainly doing 
wrong. If the former may be in fault, for not improving 



MOEAL ACTION. 199 

his talent from tlie best of motives, the latter are certainly 
so, for keeping it " laid up in a napkin." 

Desiee of Health and Yigoe. — If a person may desire 
moral worthiness and intellectual attainments as objects 
in themselves good, he may for the same reason desire 
health and vigor. The latter may be an inferior good ; 
still it is a real one, and as such may be rightly sought. 
Indeed a man cannot secure his highest moral worthiness, 
unless he properly regards his health ; for to do this is 
one of his moral duties. 

There is also a law running through life and deter- 
mining all results, that by aiming at the highest end we 
secure all subordinate good in that direction. Thus a 
conscientious regard to the highest moral worthiness, 
moulding the character to its standard, induces that in- 
dustry which tends to the highest culture ; and these 
united, so elevate and enlighten the mind, as to give it 
wholesome dominion over the lower nature. They induce 
those habits of temperance, prudence, and self-denial, 
which promote general health and vigor. 

Desire of Cikcumstantial Advantages. — ^This is a 
cherished desire for all those possessions and relations 
which contribute to our personal welfare. When is this 
desire morally right ? We lay down this rule : Whatever 
real good a man can secure to himself without wrong to 
others, it is right for him to desire. " Men shall praise 
thee, when thou doest well for thyself." 

Tliis is right, not only in the negative sense, as that 
which a man Tnay do, but in the positive sense, as that 
which he oughb to do. Every man ought to do well for 
himself. He is in circumstances of dependence. He 
needs clothing, house, food, books, instruction, and numer- 
ous other things essential to his comfort and welfare. It 
is his duty to provide them for himself, as far as possible. 



200 MOEAli PHILOSOPHT. 

and not to impose Ms burden upon others. " Every man 
shall bear his own burden." He also needs social, friendly, 
and domestic relations, and the various comforts and 
attractions of home; some of which are too dear to be 
purchased by money, but yet come of faithful endeavors 
to do well for himself. 

It hence becomes his duty, early in life, to set a value 
upon these things, and to regard them practically as 
objects of desire. It is a spurious morality, and a false 
view of religion, that would affect to discard them. They 
have their place ; they were designed to be, under well- 
defined limits, objects of desire and wholesome stimu- 
lants of enterprise. Without the desire for them, man 
becomes stupid, indolent, sottish, more brutish than hu- 
man. 

Let us instance the desire of property^ so often per- 
verted that it has been called ''the root of all evil." And 
yet, when rightly controlled, a root also of all blessings. 
It would be difficult to conceive of the wretched condition 
of our race, if this desire had no existence. 

When a man desires and accumulates property in a 
way not injurious to others, he does well not only for 
himself, but for them. He is a benefactor to his town, 
to his country, to mankind. He is adding to the general 
stock of human comfort. A wealthy man, who obtains 
his wealth honestly and uses it rightly, is a great blessing 
to the community. 

So long, therefore, as a man desires to obtain property 
by means strictly honest, and mth a view to the right 
use of it, his desire is morally right, unless it is allowed to 
displace the desire of things more important. It is, then, 
not so much the presence of this desire, as the absence of 
another, for which the man is in fault. 

There are things more to be desired than wealth. An 



MOEAL ACTION. 201 

upright character, a cultivated mind, good health, an 
amiable temper, a peaceful and contented spirit, and, 
above all, a saving interest in religion, are of immeasura- 
bly more value ; and he who allows the desire of wealth 
to supplant a due regard to these, ceases to "do well for 
himself." 

Precisely the same rule applies to the desire of office, 
of power, of rank, of title, of domestic connections, and of 
all the circumstantial possessions or relations, which may 
contribute to one's advantage. Some men desire one or 
more of these before wealth ; others give to wealth the 
preference. It is well for society that this diversity of 
desires exists. If all men rushed in one direction, they 
would crowd and jostle each other; none could be accom- 
modated. But as their desires diverge and scatter in 
various directions, there is room for all to act, and motive 
and reward for all their activity. Thus society, in its 
endless callings, may move harmoniously on ; and every 
man, in doing well for himself, may do well for his neigh- 
bor also. 

DESIEE FOR THE WELFARE OF OTHERS. 

A desire for the welfare of others is the benevolent 
element of love. It may exist towards those for whom 
we have little complacency. It may for this reason be 
the more benevolent. To persist in seeking the welfare 
of those who do us injury, or whose conduct we cannot 
approve, evinces more benevolence than to do the same 
for those whom we complacently love. To do good to our 
enemies, is more benevolent than to do good to our 
friends. 

The law of morality demands that we desire the wel- 
fare of all men. That we ought to desire the welfare of 
our friends, and indeed of all who have never injured us, 
9* 



202 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



has seldom been questioned. But that we are bound to 
desire the welfare of our enemies^ is a position wbicli men 
have been slow to admit. The philosophies of pagan 
antiquity did not admit it ; and even the writings of the 
Old Testament are, perhaps, somewhat ambiguous upon 
this subject. 

It was left for Christianity clearly and boldly to assert 
the duty of doing good to our enemies. " Love your 
enemies, bless them that curse you ; do good to them that 
hate you, and pray for them which despitefuUy use you 
and persecute you ; that ye may be the children of your 
Father which is in heaven ; for he maketh his sun to rise 
on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just 
and on the unjust." 

Infidel writers have scouted this precept. They have 
assailed it with jest and ridicule, pronouncing it impossible 
for one to love his enemies ; or, with any other than hypo- 
critical pretension, to do good to those that hate him. 
This is bold assertion, often uttered in high places as well 
as low, and too generally sustained by human conduct. 
Let us calmly consider it. 

The sacred writers often use the term love, as Christ 
here does, to indicate benevolent desire for their welfare. 
"When he says, ''Love your enemies," he means that we 
should desire and seek their good. This is evident from 
his own explanation. " Bless them that curse you ; do 
good to them that hate you. 

It is impossible for an upright being to have compla- 
cency towards wrong conduct, or to feel the same glow of 
genial affection towards an enemy as towards a friend. 
Jesus Christ did not. But if we cannot love a bad man 
as we do a good man, and if we cannot love an enemy as 
we do a friend, we may still love him as a fellow-heing, 
and may sincerely desire and seek his welfare. So did 



MORAL ACTION. 203 

Jesus Christ. And many others, imbibing his spirit, have 
done the same. 

In seasons of cahn reflection, when malevolent passion 
is at rest, a good man will reason thns : " It is true that 
my enemy has injured me, and a selfish desire would' 
prompt me to injure him in return. But ought I to in- 
dulge such a desire ? He is related to others^ who must 
also suffer by his injury, but who are innocent of any 
offence against me. Is it just in me to make them suffer, 
for what he has done ? Moreover, of what advantage 
could his injury be to me ? It could only nourish a sel- 
fish and revengeful feeling. If I seek his harm, his pros- 
perity will give me only pain, while his injury will only 
feed a passion which I ought not to indulge. Let me then 
seek his welfare, that so I ^ be not overcome of evil, but 
overcome evil with good.' " 

Such reasoning his conscience will surely approve. 
He will feel that he ought to yield to it ; he will feel con- 
demned, if he does not. His conscience will never re- 
buke him, but will for ever commend him, for seeking 
the welfare of even his guiltiest foes. It may be hard to 
do it — a struggle of conscience against urgent wrong de- 
sire ; but if he succeeds to " crucify the old man," his re- 
ward will be in proportion to his victory. Every enlight- 
ened conscience accords the declaration of Christ, that 
thus loving our enemies and doing good to them that in- 
jure us, is a grace which makes us emphatically worthy 
to be called the children of our Father who is in heaven. 

But it may be said, that if our enemy has done wrong, 
he ought to be punished. Then let the law punish him. 
Perhaps that is the best thing that can be done for him. 
It may bring him to his senses, and make him a reason- 
able and a better man. It is with this view that God 
chastises. Let the chastisement be just, let it proceed 



204 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

from a regard to the public good and a reasonable self- 
defence, let it at the same time never lose sight of the 
ultimate good of the offender, and it is morally right. 

If the benevolent desire exists only in that feeble and 
equivocal state, in which it makes its subject barely wil- 
ling to confer favors, provided no sacrifice is demanded, 
it is hardly to be commended. But when it is that posi- 
tive and operative principle, which leads to the sacrifice 
of ease, property, friendship, and, if need be, of life it- 
self, it becomes the sublimest of virtues. 

And even if it is a misguided benevolence, unless tem- 
pered with fanaticism, it is a noble virtue of heart still. 
It sometimes indicates a more intense benevolence, to per- 
severe, with an amiable temper, in a course of self-sacri- 
fice which the judgment of those around us condemns, 
than to do the same, sustained by their approval. 

It is well for mankind that their desires of doing good, 
as well as of obtaining it, move in various directions. 
Every part of the field of benevolence is thus supplied 
with laborers, instead of all men being crowded into the 
same portion. Early association, education, or the in- 
fiuence of example, may conspire with original tempera- 
ment, to turn one man's particular attention to the cause 
of temperance ; another's to the relief of the poor ; another's 
to the wants of the sailor ; another's to moral reform ; 
another's to the cause of the slave*; another's to the wel- 
fare of prisoners ; another's to the endowment of institu- 
tions of learning ; another's to the spread of Christianity. 

When a man fixes his desire on any one object, to the 
exclusion of all others, or practically disregards all interests 
not directly connected with his favorite object, he is called 
a man of one idea. His desire may be pure ; but as his 
views are limited, his judgment is partial. 

Benevolent desire does not of itself constitute Chris- 



MOKAL ACTION. 205 

tian character. Indeed cases may exist, in which a mis- 
guided desire to do good may conflict with the express 
commands of Christ. But when it is guided and animated 
by a supreme regard to the will of God, it shines as one 
of the brightest stars in the constellation of Christian 
graces. In illustration of this, John Howard, laboring in 
the dungeons of civilized Europe, and Henry Martyn, la- 
boring in the darker dungeons of pagan Asia, are bril- 
liant examples. 



CHAPTEE lY. 

MOKALLY WKONG DESIRE. 

Stich desires as are condemned by the united voice of 
mankind need no comment. It is only those on which 
questions have been raised, that we are to examine. 
These are the desires of retaliation, covetousness, pleasure, 
and emulation. 

The Desire of Retaliation. — ^The desire to retaliate 
and revenge our wrongs, has been partially considered in 
the previous chapter; as the spirit of retaliation is a com- 
pound of malevolent affection and malevolent desire. 
Some have considered the desire to retaliate constitutional; 
while others, especially some Greek and Roman moralists, 
have even exalted it to the rank of a moral virtue. Thus 
Cicero says, in his De Officiis, " It is equally base to be 
excelled by a friend in returning favors, and by an enemy 
in retaliating wrongs." 

Retaliation is a perversion of the principle of self- 
defence. The instinctive desire of life, happiness, esteem, 
possession, (fee, naturally prompts one to defend himself, 
whenever these interests are invaded. But brutes, in 
self-defence, resort to retaliation and revenge ; and some- 
times men, more brutish than human, do the same. 



MORAL ACTION. 207 

Self-defence is not only natural, but it is a duty. Every 
man is bound to be firm, courageous, resolute, in protect- 
ing the blessings which heaven has given him. They are 
his ; he is their natural guardian ; and he ought to take 
due care of them. The doctrine of non-resistance is the 
opposite to that of retaliation ; and, like most other ex- 
tremes, is unnatural and chimerical. To act upon it, is to 
expose one's self and all committed to his guardianship to 
every furious passion of lust, envy, or covetousness, which 
may come in his way. He ought to consider that he is 
not in a world of harmless beings, however harmless he 
may be, and that the duty is hence laid upon him to 
" beware of men." 

But here we are asked, did not Christ teach, " Unto 
him that smiteth thee on the one cheek, offer also the 
other ; and him that taketh away thy cloak, forbid not to 
take thy coat also?" But the connection in which he 
said this makes it evident, that he intended only to caution 
his disciples against the spirit of retaliation, and to enjoin 
the discretion demanded by their critical circumstances. 
This is evident from the fact that he warned them to 
beware of men, that is, to be on guard against their evil 
machinations ; and that on one occasion he said, " He that 
hath no sword, let him sell his garment and buy one." 

To expect a miracle, or any special interposition of 
Providence, to protect us, while we neglect the appropriate 
means of defence, is neither morality nor religion, but 
fanaticism. "We should therefore clearly distinguish self- 
defence from retaliation. The former seeks protection ^ 
the latter seeks revenge. The former would only save 
ourselves and ours from harm ; the latt6r would inflict harm 
upon others. A humane and upright man aims to protect 
himself and his, with as little harm as possible to others, 
and never with a feeling of revenge. 



208 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Even if there were no other reason why we should not 
avenge ourselves, a very conclusive one is the fact that 
we are partial and passionate judges of our own wrongs, 
and are therefore disqualified to avenge them justly. To 
attempt it, is to challenge the prerogative of God. 

What is thus condemned by morality, is also con- 
demned by the most unequivocal teachings of Christianity. 
" Recompense to no man evil for evil. Avenge not your- 
selves, but rather give place unto wrath ; for it is written, 
Yengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord. There- 
fore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give 
him drink ; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire 
on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil 
with good." 

The Desire termed Covetousness. — ^The desire which 
we denominate covetousness is universally reprobated. 
Both pagan and Christian moralists have ever agreed in 
denouncing it as a detestable vice. We do not therefore 
need to spend time in proving it to be so. Our object is 
rather to ascertain precisely what it is. We wish to dis- 
tinguish it clearly from desires that are lawful and right^ 
with which it is often in a measure confounded. Such 
are desires for education and other personal accomph'sh- 
ments, for honorable connections, for elevated society, for 
rank and office, for reputation and influence, for health 
and beauty. Of the same class are desires for houses, 
lands, equipage, furniture, dress, and, in general, every 
species of property. All these things are desirable. 

ITow if these things are worthy to be desired, there 
must be such a thing as right desire for them. There is 
also its opposite, wrong desire for them; and it is this 
which we are now to examine. The question is, when is 
desire for these things covetous f It is so, when it would 
appropriate what belongs to others; when it is excessive; 



MORAI. ACTION. 209 

when it regards tlie means as an end ; and when it con- 
templates bad ends. 

1. The desire is covetous when it would appropriate 
another'' s. A cherished wish to appropriate to one's self 
what belongs to a fellow-being, is selfish and unjust. It is 
a desire in opposition to another's welfare, and a disposi- 
tion to deprive him of his own. Allowed to rule the 
spirit, it makes a man virtually a thief and a robber. 
Indeed there is scarcely a crime into which, when in- 
tensely excited, it has not actually plunged its victims. 
Frauds, thefts, murders, arsons, have come of it. 

But the mischief done to the hearts of those in which 
it dwells, is greater than that done to society. In most 
cases it is restrained by law and public opinion, so as 
only to prey in secret upon its unhappy victim. It then 
makes desperate war on conscienqe, becomes prolific 
of other evil desires, and, if long and freely indulged, 
proves fatal to peace and to all virtue. 

2. This desire is covetous when it is excessive. The 
desire of worthy things may become unduly strong, and 
thus subvert other and more important principles. The 
rule is, never to allow it to supersede a regard to the 
highest moral excellence. So long as one practically 
values moral purity before all these things, his desire for 
them is in due subjection. A faithful regard to the ad- 
monitions of enlightened conscience, will not fail to guide 
him aright. 

But let the desire supersede this regard, and it becomes 
highly pernicious. It darkens the understanding, warps 
the judgment, narrows the soul, and endangers every 
virtuous feeling. It becomes more dangerous when di- 
rected to some things than when directed to others, but in 
every case it is evil. Even the desire for intellectual 
attainments, which is perhaps as little liable as any to be 



210 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

excessive, may be allowed so to subvert the higher regard 
due to moral worthiness, as to prove fatal to the brightest 
hopes. Its victim may be deluded into the most perni- 
cious sophistries, and be left to fall into the gloom of even 
atheism itself. The exaltation of the intellect, without the 
heart, never lifts the soul to God. 

The desire of heauty, in itself innocent, may be allowed 
to turn one's attention so much to personal appearance as 
to induce light-mindedness. The desire of esteem^ may 
lead to vanity. The desire of ranh and office^ may become 
a burning ambition. The desire of equipage^ furniture^ 
dress^ servants^ display^ may obtain such mastery, as to 
turn all noble thoughts and benevolent aims out of the 
mind. 

3. The desire is covetous when it regards the means as 
an end. Most of these things have no intrinsic worth, as 
personal excellence has ; they are valuable only for the 
purposes they serve. Thus rank and office, dress and 
furniture, have no value, except as they afford us means 
of personal improvement and comfort, and of conferring 
benefits upon others. Hence when one loses sight of their 
use, and desires them for their own sake, he is covetous 
and vain. 

We have some consideration for the man who desires 
money, even excessively, in view of the advantage it 
affords ; but when he comes to desire it for its own sake, 
we cannot help regarding him as a contemptible miser. 
There are such men. In their absorbing pursuit of the 
means, they lose sight of the end, and finally sacrifice 
ease, comfort, domestic enjoyment, health, usefulness, 
character, and even life itself, to the mere purpose of 
hoarding. 

4. The desire is covetous when it has respects to had 
ends. The covetous desire assumes perhaps its most ma- 



MORAL ACTION. 211 

lignant type, when it seeks these things with deliberate 
reference to bad purposes. Here the objective motive 
determines the character of the subjective. 

Under the restrictions above given, to desire property, 
for the benefits which it affords to its possessor, and 
enables him to confer upon others ; to desire education, 
for its intrinsic value and for the sake of being useful ; to 
desire dress and furniture, for the sake of maintaining an 
appearance suitable to one's position ; to desire books, 
journeying, recreation, with a view to the true object of 
the highest culture ; is morally right. 

But to desire property, as a means to indulge the lusts 
of sensuality ; to desire of&ce and power, in order to lord 
it over others ; to desire personal beauty and accomplish- 
ments, to gratify vanity ; to desire fine houses, dress, fur- 
niture, equipage, to challenge the homage and provoke 
the envy of neighbors ; is criminal and base. 

The Desire of Pleasijee. — ^The desire of pleasure is 
innate, and is hence unlawful only when misdirected. 
That the pleasures of morality and religion may always be 
sought, will not be denied. The question is. Are there 
other pleasures, of an inferior kind, which we may rightly 
desire ; and, if there are such, how may we distinguish 
them ? 

That there are such, is evident both from the wants of 
our nature and the provisions made for them. We were 
not constituted to depend merely upon the pleasures of 
moral worthiness and a good conscience. There must be 
pleasures superadded to these, or most men would be too 
miserable to become morally better. 

And even the Christian, who has drunk most deeply 
into the pure pleasures of religion, must often fall back 
upon those which the world proffers ; or he inclines to 
become ascetic and unamiable. We cannot be angels 



212 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

here. "We are human beings, after all that morality and 
religion can make us. There are pleasures adapted to our 
lower natures ; and he who would so divest himself of hu- 
manity as not to need them, would be neither a man nor 
an angel. 

The pleasures to which we refer are those only which 
interfere with no duty, and are favorable to health, cheer- 
fulness, mental growth, long life, and usefulness. They 
are suited to the various periods of life, from childhood to 
the grave. They are the pleasures of innocent sports and 
amusements ; of rational and refined social intercourse ; 
of muscular activity and mental diversion; of journeying 
and witnessing new objects ; of contemplating the beauti- 
ful and sublime in' nature and art ; of learning and com- 
municating the current news ; of reading and music ; in 
short, of all those agreeable recreations, which tend to 
make us cheerful and happy. 

But no sooner do men transgress the above limits, than 
they enter upon forbidden ground. Hence morality con- 
demns the desire of the sensualist, the rake, the tippler, the 
glutton, the libertine ; of him who seeks such amusements 
as cock-fighting, gambling, attending impure exhibitions, 
and reading vicious novels ; of those who covet the plea- 
sures of pride and vanity ; and even of those who pursue 
pleasures innocent in themselves, to the neglect or detri- 
ment of duty. 

After all, perhaps no question in philosophy is left in 
more uncertainty, than that which respects the precise 
limit of lawful and unlawful indulgencies. Hence good 
men, both moralists and Christians, diJffer as to what plea- 
sures are strictly innocent. This uncertainty is a part of 
our discipline. If all the forbidden and allowed pleasures 
were so exactly specified as to admit of no question, to 
say nothing of the monstrous book necessary to record 



MOEAL ACTION. 213 

them, our discipline would become more mechanical than 
moral. 

Scarcely any disposition is more unamiable than that 
which is ever looking with jealous eye upon the pleasures 
of others. If we see our fellow-beings pursuing pleasures 
manifestly vicious, we should do what we lawfully can to 
restrain them. K they indulge in amusements which we 
disapprove, but which they judge to be right, unless we 
can convert them to our views, or they can convert us to 
theirs, we should amicably agree to differ. To be severe 
towards our own pleasures, and liberal towards those of 
others, is a virtue of no mean value. 

The Desire Teemed Emulation. — ^The term emulation 

t- 

is susceptible of two meanings. It may indicate an aspi- 
ration to make the highest absolute attainment. In this 
sense, it is not a term of opposition. It indicates a per- 
son's desire to make the most of his talents and opportu- 
nities. He may wish to do this himself, and with equal 
sincerity may desire that all others should do the same. 
This is not a mere constitutional desire. It is obedience 
to a duty. 

But this is not the sense in which those philosophers 
use the term, to whose views we object. They indicate 
by it the desire of rivalry^ and have claimed that this de- 
sire is a part of our original nature. 

As this is a very important point, and we are con- 
strained to differ upon it from eminent authorities, let us 
examine it with care. 

"Emulation," says Butler, "is merely \he desire of 
sv/periority over others, with whom we compare ourselves. 
To desire the attainment of this superiority by the par- 
ticular means of others being brought down below our 
own level, is the distinct notion of envy. From whence 
it is easy to see, that the real end which the natural pas- 



214 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

sion, emulation, and which, the unlawful one, envy, aims 
at, is exactly the same ; and, consequently, that to do 
mischief is not the end of envy, but merely the means it 
makes use of to attain its end." * 

" By emulation," says Eeid, " I mean a desire of su- 
jperiority to our rivals in any pursuit, accompanied with 
an uneasiness at heing surpassed. Human life has justly 
been compared to a race. The prize is superiority in one 
kind or another. But the species or forms, if I may use 
the expression, of superiority among men, are infinitely 
diversified. Emulation has a manifest tendency to im- 
provement. Without it, life would stagnate, and the dis- 
coveries of art and genius would be at a stand. This prin- 
ciple produces a constant fermentation in society, by which, 
though dregs may be produced, the better part is exalted 
and purified to a perfection which it could not otherwise 
attain." 

" He who runs a rSiCQ feels uneasiness at seeing another 
outstrip him. This is uncorrupted nature, and the work 
of God within him. But this uneasiness may produce 
either of two very different effects. It may incite him 
to make more vigorous exertions, and to strain every 
nerve to get hefore his rival. This is fair and honest emu- 
lation. This is the effect it is intended to produce. But 
if he has not fairness and candor of heart, he will look 
with an evil eye on his competitor, and will endeavor to 
trip him, or to throw a stumbling-block in his way. / This 
is pure envy, the most malignant passion that can lodge 
in the human heart ; which devours, as its natural food, 
the fame and the happiness of those who are most deserv- 
ing of our esteem." f ' 

I have italicised the lines which most distinctly in- 

* Sermon I. on Human Natm-e. t VoL IV., p. 113. 



MOKAL ACTION. 215 

dicate the meaning attaclied to emulation, and have quoted 
the entire passage, to show the reasoning and explainations 
of the distinguished authors respecting it. It is hence 
clear that the emulation which they advocate, as a native 
and innocent principle, is the desire which parties feel, 
struggling as rivals in the same pursuit to excel each other. 

More recent writers have adopted the same view, ap- 
parently without pausing to question its soundness. Thus 
Whewell says, "The desire of sujperiority vcLdij ho^ placed 
among the elementary desires j since it is seen to exist 
as an instinct in many of the bolder animals, manifesting 
itself in the exertions which they make in their conflicts 
with one another." * 

The above distinction between emulation and envy is 
obvious, but not to the purpose. Envy is a repining at I, 
another's prosperity. It may be accompanied with an 
effort to depreciate him, or it may not. Envy often leads to ) 
slander, and to putting a " stumbling-block " in the rival's 
way, but it may truly exist in the mind without making 
any such demonstration. 

Envy has really nothing more to do with the mea/ns 
of getting above a rival, or of getting the rival down, than 
emulation has. Emulation desires to excel a rival ; envy 
repines at not succeeding. Envy is very apt, indeed, to 
vent itself in ill-natured remarks and unfair actions, in 
order to put the rival down, but it may decidedly exist in 
the heart without doing any such thing. 

As all agree to denounce envy^ our only inquiry respects 
emulatjion^ as here explained. The question is, whether 
it is a principle irrvplanted hy the Creator, or whether it 
has a moral quality, not to be approved. Observe that 
this is no part of the desire of power and influence over 

* Elements of Morality, Vol. I. p. 50. 



216 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

our fellow-beings, with a view of being useful to them ; it 
is entirely another thing. Its direct and commanding 
object is superiority over rivals. To this single idea of it 
our minds must be strictly confined ; as this is the precise 
idea of those to whose views we are compelled to object. 

The argument that emulation is to " be placed among 
the elementary desires, since it exists as an instinct in 
many of the bolder animals," proves quite too much, if it 
proves any thing. Brute instincts, especially in the bolder 
and more ferocious animals, lead to many dispositions and 
actions which must be condemned in man. They instinct- 
ively contend, quarrel, and kill each other. They exhibit 
all the retaliating and revengeful passions. 

In the absence of a rational and moral nature, this is 
all their defence. As they have no other means of self- 
protection, we only call them unamiahle or ugly^ even 
when they manifest dispositions for which a rational being 
would deserve the gallows. "Whatever they may do, they 
do nothing morally wrong, for the plain reason that they 
cannot. All their actions are within the sphere of nature. 

We have another serious difficulty with the above 
views. Can a man desire to hold the rank of superiority 
to his rival, without desiring his rival to hold the rank of 
inferiority to himself? Does not the one imply the other? 
But it is said, he may wish himself up, without wishing 
his rival down. ITo. We are not now' speaking of ohso- 
lute eminence. The strife for that we admit to be noble. 
That is emulation in the good sense, to which we have 
referred, and which Paul commended. What we condemn 
is the selfish spirit of rivalry. 

But let us allow the best of the case. Suppose the 
man does not wish to keep his rival back ; he only wishes 
to excel him and get the prize. His rival, however, out- 
strips him, and the prize is lost. From the nature of the 



MOEAL ACTION. 217 

case, he must feel unhappy at the result. Precisely as 
Reid says, "emulation is accompanied with uneasiness at 
being surpassed." 

ISTow what is this uneasiness ? If it is en'oy^ all agree 
to condemn it. But why blame the unfortimate man for 
what he could not prevent ? He did as well as he could ; 
and now, as conceded, he cannot avoid this unhappy 
feeling. If it is mortification, or chagrin, at having failed ; 
this, too, is undeserved, when one has done his best. In 
every view, the result to the loser is disastrous. It can 
do him only injury, either to feel envious, or to feel mor- 
tified and vexed, for not succeeding, when conscious of 
having done all in his power to succeed. It cannot incite 
him to do better next time, for he has done his best al- 
ready. It can only discourage him, enfeeble his spirit, 
and sour his temper. Call not this a needful trial of moral 
discipline. For moral discipline, such as God, and not 
man provides, is exactly the reverse of this, both in its 
nature and tendency. 

And as to the winner ; is it certain that the exultation 
of triumph over his defeated rival, will make him any 
wiser or better ? Will it adorn him more profusely with 
the graces of modesty, meekness, benevolence, which all 
admire as the brightest of human virtues; or will it 
send him forth, with a more vigorous and self-sustained 
energy, on the path to absolute and exalted eminence? 
Who that struggles thus for a mere adventitious prize, 
ever rises thereby much above the object of his grovelling 
ambition ? 

Emulation Unnecessaet. — ^There are two conclusive 
reasons why the spirit of rivalry is unnecessary, and these 
are, of course, reasons for believing that the Creator did 
not implant it. 

1. We have impulses enough without it. — -Consider the 
10 



218 MOKAL PHILOSOPHT. 

Beven primitive desires wMch we have enumerated, and 
the direction in which they all nrge; to these add the 
force of conscience and regard to personal worthiness, 
and, if Christianity is admitted, the high motives revealed 
from heaven and constantly reflected by Providence ; we 
shall then no longer doubt that motives all but omnipotent 
are pressing us to the highest possible attainments. We 
no longer fear that " life would stagnate, and the discove- 
ries of art and genius would be at a stand," but for the 
fiery spirit of rivalry to " produce a constant fermentation 
in society." There are enough less questionable motives 
to keep life from stagnation, and to conduct art and genius 
to glory. 

2. In the struggle for absolute eminence there is no 
need of rivalry^ for the jprize is ample for all. — ^In the 
struggle of emulation, " they which run in a race, run all, 
l^ut one receiveth the prize."* This is the great difficulty 
in all such contests. They are contests for comparative 
standing, and, of necessity, for few prizes. The unavoid- 
able result is many failures, and with theni repining, 
jealousy, envy. It is idle to say such feelings ought not 
to exist. Until one '' can go upon hot coals and his feet 
not be burned," we must despair of an effectual divorce 
between them and the spirit of rivalry. 

E'ow, in place of rivalry, let the primitive desires of 
knowledge, esteem, possession, power, combine with high 
moral and Christian motive, to urge one to make the most 
of his talents and opportunities. He desires the highest 
possible attainments in virtue, knowledge, lawful posses- 
sions, art, power, influence ; all that is truly for his welfare 
as a rational being. If actuated by Christian principle, 
he desires these attainments not only for himself and for the 
happiness they afford, but that he may accomplish his mis- 
sion in glorifying God and conferring blessings upon man- 
kind. 



MORAL ACTION. 219 

There is here omijple prize for all. One does not lose, 
because another wins; all may win, and he rewa/rded. 
E'or is the reward of one man in the least diminished, 
because another gains a higher. On the contrary, every 
acquisition, by whomsoever made, is a contribution to the 
general honor and welfare. 

In respect to all truly great and valuable attainments, 
there is a community of interests. One professor in a 
college loses nothing, because another professor reaches a 
higher point than he ; on the contrary, that higher attain- 
ment reflects a proportionate honor on the institution, 
and is of advantage to all connected with it. It would be 
as impolitic as it would be base, for one professor to desire 
to keep the whole institution in obscurity, that his own 
little light might appear the brighter. 

One pupil in a school is not injured by being excelled 
by others, provided there is no spirit of rivalry. Their 
higher attainments exert a happy influence upon the 
entire school, and upon himself personally as a member. 
Tliey all help to raise a higher standard, and to keep the 
motives of true eminence in sight. 

One merchant, or mechanic, or farmer, is not injured 
by another's success, unless something unfair is done ; on 
the contrary, that success gives a spur to business and 
helps all concerned in it. 

If we take a religious view, one member of a Christian 
community, or church, loses nothing because another 
excels him in Christian knowledge and character ; on the 
contrary, those superior attainments, by the force of their 
example, are of great assistance to him and to the entire 
church. St. Paul in heaven loses nothing because Gabriel 
is in advance of him. The splendors reflected from that 
" tall archangel bright," may cheer the heart, enrich the 
zeal, and quicken the steps, of the sainted apostle, on his 
way to yet higher attainments. 



220 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

It maj be said, the above principle holds only in the 
case of comonunities^ where there is, of course, a common 
interest. I reply, there is a community of interests in 
respect to all beings. ]^o being in the universe is isolated. 
The community is smaller and the mutual interest is closer 
in the family than in the town, in the school than in the 
State, in the nation than in the world, in one particular 
church than in the church at large ; still, a community of 
interests exists, more or less intimate, throughout the uni- 
verse ; so as to make the superior attainments of any one 
being of more or less advantage to all. K the personal 
advantage diminishes as the circle enlarges, it is in pro- 
portion to the diminution of force from motives of rivalry ; 
so that the one is an offset to the other. If the attainments 
of a pupil in ]^ew York are of small advantage to a pupil 
in Pekin, equally small are the advantages to be realized 
from motives of rivahy between them. 

So^iE Men not actuated by Emulation. — There seems 
to be conclusive proof, that the motive of rivalry is no 
part of our " primitive and pure nature," in the fact that 
some men have, thi'ough the influence of the Gospel, dis- 
pensed with it, and have afforded ample evidence of being 
as entire and perfect men without it as with it. They have 
not appeared to be maraed, or crippled, as though they 
had lost a leg or an arm, or any portion of their mental 
constitution. They have perceived as clearly, reasoned 
as soundly, struggled to do well as intensely and steadily, 
loved as sincerely, and risen as rapidly, as those who act 
from motives of rivalry ; and, it is due to them to add, 
that they have more frequently succeeded, and their success 
has been crowned with richer and more lasting honors. 

There are men who aspire to all that is truly great and 
good, who are single-eyed, far-reaching, industrious, ear- 
nest, to the extent of their ability, who have no fellowship 



MOKAL ACTION. 221 

with the motive of rivalry. Their aim is too high to be 
affected by such a motive. The question with them is not, 
whether they are above or beneath others, but whether 
they are doing the test they can for themselves and for 
their fellow-beings, in the great battle of life. They do 
not look upon others as rivals, but as co-workers ; and if 
others can accomplish what they cannot, they rejoice in 
it. They are content to do their best ; they are glad when 
others do better. Is not this more excellent than rivalry ? 

Such was our illustrious Washington. How would he 
sink from his high eminence, in the estimation of man- 
kind, if thought to have been actuated by the motive of 
rivalry ? Such was John Howard. "Was it the spirit of 
rivalry, that made his life great and his name immortal ? 
Such was Isaac ]^ewton. Was it by the aid ot rivalry, 
that he soared among the stars, and made his home above 
the highest of them? The spirit of rivalry, earthly and 
sensual, never carried a mortal half so high. 

A Single Prize supposed. — ^It may be said, there are 
instances in which only one object is set before two or 
more aspirants, as in the case of an office, and that emula- 
tion is then unavoidable. Suppose, then, two prominent 
candidates for the presidency of the United States. What 
has each to do, but to be faithful to himself and to his 
country, and thus render himself worthy of that office. 
K already deemed worthy, let him not become otherwise 
by indulging rivalry. So sure as he manifests that selfish 
spirit, he will defeat his end, the common voice will con- 
demn him. But if he ought not to manifest it, he ought 
not to cherish it. To make the point clear, let the can- 
didates be equally qualified for the office in all respects, 
save this, that one of them has a sincere regard to the 
welfare of the nation, and the other is actuated by a spirit 
of rivalry. The former is seeking the good of his country ; 



222 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the latter is seeking his own good. Wlio can hesitate in 
deciding which of the two is the right man for the office ? 

And why not ? Because we all see, when a striking 
case is presented and great interests are involved, that the 
spirit of rivalry is base, mean, dangerous, compared with 
that high, noble, benign principle, which ever ought to 
guide us. But let us suppose the worst. The worthy 
candidate is rejected; the ambitious aspirant is chosen. 
Has the rejected man any occasion to regret his course? 
!N"one. He may say to his countrymen, as a greater did 
before him, "Weep not for me, but for yourselves and 
your children." He has done his duty. His destiny is 
not staked upon the office ; he is the same excellent man 
without it that he would be with it ; and he is pursuing a 
course that will secure immortal honor and peace, when 
the ephemeral triumphs of rivalry are all forgotten. But 
if the right man is chosen, it is well both for him and for 
the nation that he never allowed the spirit of rivalry to 
enter his heart;. and we need not stop to show, that it 
would have been immeasurably better for the defeated 
man to have done the same. 

This looks well in theory, say some, but we are not 
those noble and magnanimous beings which the case sup- 
poses, and which we must be, in order to feel and act thus. 
ITor are we likely to become such, so long as that morality 
is sanctioned and is inculcated in our schools, which main- 
tains that the spirit of rivalry is " God's work within us," 
and should be encouraged ; which infers duty from what 
man is, as a fallen being, rather that from what he was, 
as originally created, and, with the grace- of Christianity, 
is hound to he. 

So long as we take our lessons of duty fi-om heathen 
philosophers, and from " the bolder animals in their con- 
flicts with one another," instead of Jesus Christ ; so long 



MOEAL ACTION. 223 

as we are taught that but for the spirit of rivalry " life 
would stagnate, and the discoveries of art and genius 
would be at a stand 5 " so long as teachers and guardians, 
through all our tender and formative years, inculcate, 
stimulate, reward it ; what ought we to expect, but that 
we shall grow up and come forth into active life its mis- 
erable victims? 

"Well did one of the most distinguished' advocates of 
the spirit of rivalry say, " Dismal are its effects, when it 
is not under the direction of reason and virtue. It has 
often the most malignant influence on men's opinions, on 
their affections, and on their actions." * But better yet, 
had he said, that it should never be indulged at all ; that 
it should be utterly and for ever cast out of the soul, root 
and branch, as an abominable and detestable thing. Then, 
and not till then, does man know true peace. Then, his 
eye is single, his countenance serene, his step steady and 
firm. Then, he feels the inspiration of a new spirit. 
Then, with a heart that embraces every man's welfare, an 
object in view which.no mortal can let or hinder, and a 
hope as high as heaven, he begins to feel and to act as 
becomes a rational and immortal being. 

Do we then discard all exhibitions, shows, fairs, whose 
object is the comparison of works of genius and industry? 
By no means. Let these comparisons be made, and let 
genius and industry receive suitable tokens of approval. 
But how noble is the man who lays his works by the side 
of those of his fellow-men, and, if he has been enabled to 
do well, gratefully rejoices in it; and if others have done 
well, or even better than he, rejoices in that also; com- 
pared with the man who is actuated by the selfish spirit 
of rivalry, rejoicing only in his own success, or realizing 

* Reid's Works, vol. IV., p. 112. 



224 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

"uneasiness at being surpassed." The one is the spirit 
that has its eje upon a rival, and is pained at defeat, or 
exultant at a petty triumph over him; the other spirit 
contemplates the highest absolute excellence; itself as- 
piring to it, and rejoicing to see others do the same. This 
is the motive which true morality and Christianity incul- 
cate, in the place of that whose effects are often so " dis- 
mal and malignant." 

The truly ingenuous person does not wish to receive 
honors, unless conscious of deserving them. If he is a 
noble youth who desires the highest academic honors, and 
receives them without pride, no less noble is he who does 
his best, and yet cordially awards those honors to his suc- 
cessful companion. As his aim was not for the mere hon- 
ors, but for the substantial prize beyond them, he still 
presses onward, with a heart as sound, unenvious, and 
happy as ever, assured that whatever his companion may 
have gained, he has himself thereby lost nothing. 

When academic honors are regarded as objects of 
rivalrous pursuit, as the end for which to strive, they di- 
vert pupils from the true aim, and thus frequently injure 
their intellectual scarcely less than their moral character. 
The best scholars need no such stimulus. Due regard to 
their health more frequently makes it necessary to rest/rain 
them. While they who are slow to learn, but disposed to 
do the best they can, can realize only harm from appeals 
to the spirit of rivalry. A prize which they know they 
cannot reach, is, of course, to them no motive to study ; 
and sometimes even serves to dishearten them. They 
need rather to be encouraged, by being assured that the 
real prize is for tJiem, as truly as for the more gifted minds. 
Their feelings are often as keen as those of persons favored 
with the brightest intellect ; and they are usually raore 
susceptible than they to sympathy and encouragement, 
because conscious that they more need them. 



MORAL ACTION. 225 

Hence tlie kind and gentle stimulns of patient expla- 
nation and assurance of ultimate success avail, where ap- 
peals to the spirit of rivalry are utterly impotent ; and 
they often eventually realize, even from those of little 
early promise, the brightest ornaments and most distin- 
guished benefactors of mankind. 

10* 



CHAPTEE Y. 

MORALLY BIGHT EMOTION. 

MoEAL action is usually attended with some emotion^ which 
partakes of the moral quality of the act. Thus, when a 
man, from a sense of duty, chooses to practise self-denial, 
or to bestow charity, or to encounter perils or hardships, 
that choice is a good moral act, and the emotion which 
prompts and attends it is the same morally with the act 
itself. 

Although simple volition is not emotion, nor emotion 
volition, yet blending together for the same good or evil 
end, they constitute the same moral act. "While the con- 
stitutional or natural feelings and volitions are simple, the 
moral are complex. Hence om' only method of analyzing 
them, is to class them according to the predominant or 
characteristic element. Thus, those acts in which the 
emotional element is predominant, we term emotional^ or 
simply emotions. Those in which affection predominates, 
we call affections ^ those in which desires predominate, 
we call desires. 

When emotion becomes intense^ and predominates not 
only over the other feelings but over reason itself, so that 



MORAL ACTIOJS^. 227 

a man is controlled hj this impulse, lie is in a passion. 
He is apparently all emotion ; so to speak. His emotion 
varies in intensity, according to his natural temperament, 
to circumstances, and to the objects to which it is di- 
rected. 

He may be in a passion of anger, a passion of love, or 
a passion of ambition. The passion of anger is the most 
violent, and is of course the soonest spent. This is often 
little else than mere emotion. The passion of love is less 
violent and often deeper than that of anger, and is there- 
fore more enduring. In this there is a larger infusion of 
affection and desire. The passion of ambition is usually 
deeper and stronger than either of the preceding, and is 
of course more steady and persistent. ITot like the furious 
tornado, nor the capricious gale, but like the steady trade- 
wind, it bears its subject firmly and continuously onward 
to some distant port. Such was the ambition of Alexan- 
der, of Csesar, of ISTapoleon. 

Their desire of power was not perhaps greater than 
that of many unknown to fame ; but, unlike theirs, it was 
actuated by a more impassioned and protracted emotion. 
It was the fire of an ambitions zeal^ burning in their bones, 
that made their desires and their wills so mighty and effec- 
tive. All great orators, revolutionists, and reformers have 
much of emotion. 

CLASSIFICATION OF THE MORAL EMOTIONS. 

Let it be remembered, then, that those moral acts in 
which emotion, even if it does not rise to a passion, is yet 
predominant^ are called moral emotions / thus taliing their 
name from their most characteristic clement. 

These emotions are of two kinds, the morally right and 
the morally wrong. 

Of the former are the emotions of love, of pity, of for- 



228 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

giveness, of gratitude, of penitence, of humility, of confi- 
dence, of self-approbation, of hope. 

Of the latter, corresponding mostly to the former, are 
the emotions of hatred, of anger, of revenge, of envy, of 
obstinacy, of pride, of jealonsy, of remorse, and of despair. 

In this chapter we are to examine the former class. 

Emotion of Love. — ^Moral love includes, as we have 
seen, cordial affection and corresponding emotion, together 
with benevolent desire for its object. 

In the love of an upright heart towards a good being, 
all these elements combine ; but as a good being cannot 
contemplate what is morally wrong with complacency, 
his love for a bad man is mostly that of benevolence. 

"Whereas, the love which a truly good and genial heart 
feels towards all truly good beings, varying with their 
peculiar qualities and their relations to him, is in the 
highest degree complacent, and is enriched with an emo- 
tion of vivid delight in him. This is em^otiondl moral love. 

Emotion of Pity. — ^Emotions of pity and of compassion 
are nearly the same, but the former has more respect to 
condition ; the latter, to character. We pity the unfortu- 
nate, the suffering, the needy ; we compassionate the er- 
ring and the fallen. Accompanied with benevolent de- 
sire and effort, these emotions have moral character. 

K they are mere excitements of passive or immanent 
feeling, in contemplation of the calamities of others ; at - 
tended with no yearnings of heart towards them, and no 
endeavors to do them good, they are not only destitute of 
moral excellence, but they often render the heart colder 
and more selfish than they found it. Such excitements 
are often occasioned by the reading of novels, and by at- 
tending dramatic exhibitions. The subjects of them are 
prone to flatter themselves that they possess refined be- 
nevolent sensibilities, just because they love to riot in the 



MOKAL ACTION. 229 

selfish luxury of excited imagination. Their hearts, the 
meanwhile, are turning to marble. 

But when these emotions lead us to seek the good of 
their object, as in the case of the good Samaritan men- 
tioned by Christ, and as illustrated in the whole course 
of his own life, they possess a high order of excellence. 
We ought all to cultivate them; for there are objects of 
pity and compassion on every side. Our Maker has set 
us the example. It is because his compassions fail not, 
that we are not consumed. And we are clearly taught, 
that he who withholds pity and compassion from his suf- 
fering and erring brethren, should expect them to be with- 
held from him in the day of his calamity. 

Emotion of Sympathy. — ^This is a fellow-feeling with 
the sufferings and joys of others. We may pity those 
with whom we have no fellow-feeling ; but we sympa- 
thize with those only with whom we are on terms of 
friendship. We in imagination assume their place, and 
suffer and enjoy with them. 

But our sympathies are mostly with the ajffUcted. If 
our fellow-beings are enjoying a state of ordinary pros- 
perity, they do not need our sympathy. They and we 
pass along the journey of life together, without intermed- 
dling with each other's affairs. In his Theory of Moral 
Sentiments, Adam Smith says, " The word sympathy, in 
its most proper and primitive signification, denotes our fel- 
low-feeling with the sufferings^ not with the enjoyments of 
others. What can be added to the happiness of the man 
who is in health, who is out of debt, and has a clear con- 
science. This situation, however, may very well be called 
the natural and ordinary state of mankind." The times 
seem to have degenerated since he wrote. 

We sympathize with individuals. We hear of a na- 
tional disaster with sadness ; of the misfortunes of an in- 



230 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

dividual, with sympathy. We hear of a battle, or of a 
shipwreck, in which mnltitiides have peiished, and we are 
shocked, as though an earthquake had spoken. But it is 
not until imagination has taken up the individual suffer- 
ers, and presented them to us in their personal calamities, 
that our sympathy is moved. HeUce the writer who 
would excite our sympathy, does not deal in generals; 
but pictures to our imagination cases of personal suffer- 
ing. Lively and generous sympathy is an element of 
character, having great beauty and excellence. 

Emotion of Fokgivekess. — This is the counterpart to 
the emotion of revenge. The revengeful heart would ren- 
der evil for evil; the forgiving heart would overcome 
evil with good. This does not imply a want of sensibility 
to the injury received, but a forgiving spirit, rising above 
and controlling the wounded sensibility, and having the 
offender's welfare for its object. 

Forgiveness, then, is eminently a benevolent emotion. 
To the selfish heart, revenge is sweet ; to the benevolent 
heart, forgiveness is sweeter. He in whose heart the 
emotion of forgiveness finds no delightful play, in a world 
so replete as this with provocations, must be himself a 
wretched sufferer, and must be an occasion of much suffer- 
ing to others. Hence morality attaches great importance 
to this virtue ; and Jesus Christ has assigned to it a prom- 
inent place in his religion. " Forgive^ and ye shall 1)6 for- 
given.^'' 

When a man of forgiving temper sees 'that justice is 
cared for, he embraces the repenting offender with the 
cordiality of a brother. He rejoices that it is not his to 
punish, but to forgive. If ever he punishes, it is because 
he must. He forgives, because it is his delight. Such is 
the spirit of Jehovah; otherwise, we should all be de- 
stroyed. " To err, is human. ; to forgive, divine P 



MORAL ACTION. 231 

Forgiveness is magnanimoiis, and there can be no true 
magnanimitj without it. An unforgiving man may be 
bold, brave, courageous, but magnanimous he cannot be. 
He may be mighty, for a time ; but he cannot be morally 
great. He may tower in pride, but he is doomed to fall. 

Both Alexander and ISTapoleon boasted that they never 
forgave. It is hoped that their doings were in this respect 
better than their professions. He who never forgives, 
will never he forgiven! "If ye forgive not men their 
trespasses, neither will your Heavenly Father forgive 



Emotion of Gratitude. — ^A grateful emotion arises from 
a sense of obligation for favors received, and is attended 
with desire to make some suitable return. But whatever 
return the grateful person may make, it is not like paying 
a debt. Gold may be too cheap to express his obligation. 
Whatever return he may make, his emotion of gratitude 
is as vivid as ever. This is a cardinal virtue ; essential 
alike to individual and to national prosperity. 

The combined indignation of both earth and heaven 
will finally concentrate upon the head of him, who per- 
sists in requiting distinguished benefits with base ingrati- 
tude. The same is true of communities ; of nations. We 
read of ancient states and republics, which were shame- 
fully ungrateful to their benefactors ; and the same pens 
which have recorded their guilt, have recorded also their 
ruin. 

The Saxon term for grateful is than'kful / the term 
employed in the Scriptures. The want of thankfulness, 
is by them indicated as marking a very deep and desperate 
stage of depravity. Because men, when they knew God, 
" glorified him not as God, neither were thankful^'' they 
were abandoned to their crimes. 

* Jesus Christ, Matt. 6 : 14. 



232 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Emotion^ of Penitei^ce. — ^This emotion, like all others, 
depends mostly for its definition upon synonims. To be 
really known, it must be felt. It is an emotion of sincere 
sorrow and contrition for having done wrong. It implies 
a just conviction of wrong done, a cordial disapprobation 
of it, together with a sincere desire and purpose to do so 
no more. 

It is not therefore, as is often supposed, a mere ebulli- 
tion or excitement of feeling, in view of misconduct. 
However intense and vivid, unless it tends- to purify the 
soul which it agitates, unless it turns the deep cmTent of 
its desires and purposes from evil to good, unless it ren- 
ders its subject practically wiser and better, it has no 
moral worth. 

The truly penitential emotion is tender, serious, earn- 
est ; it subdues and sweetens the temper ; it impresses 
lasting lessons of humility, as it rolls over the spirit. It 
renders its subject keen to discern and quick to feel the 
distinction between right and wrong, and makes him di- 
rect his steps cautiously in the narrow path of moral rec- 
titude. 

Emotion of Humility. — This is a gem of beauty, un- 
surpassed in the whole diadem of virtues. It is a grace 
of great loveliness, peculiarly befitting beings like us. 
For while we have nothing for which to be proud, we 
have much for which to be humble. 

This emotion is an appropriate feeling of self-abase- 
ment, in view of our ignorance, our errors, and our mis- 
deeds. The truly humble man is disposed to take a very 
low place. He is meek and lowly in heart. At the same 
time, he does not undervalue his gifts, exaggerate his 
faults, nor compromise his dignity with his fellow-men. 
He knows his position and his claims. He is humble, but 
he is still a man ; and the more a man for his humility. 



MORAL ACTION. 233 

His humility comes of looking upward. He is more 
humble than his neighbor, not because he has more reason 
to be so, but because he has a higher standard and a juster 
sense of his deficiencies. Thus, while pride comes of ig- 
norance, humility comes of knowledge. Sir Isaac E"ew- 
ton was one of the most illustrious of men, both in intel- 
lectual and moral greatness, walking as an angel among 
the stars and reading their sublime lessons, but he was as 
distinguished for his humility as for his knowledge. 

''In this w^ay we are to account for that humility 
which is so peculiarly a part of the Christian character, 
as contrasted with the general pride which other systems 
either recommend or allow. The Christian religion is, 
indeed, as has been often sarcastically said by those who 
revile it, the religion of the humble in heart ; but it is the 
religion of the humble, only because it presents to our 
contemplation a higher excellence than was ever before 
exhibited to man. The proud look down upon the earth, 
and see nothing that creeps upon the earth more noble 
than themselves. The humble look upward to their 
God." * 

Emotion of Confidence. — Emotions of confidence, trust, 
faith, are much the same, and morally the counterpart to 
those of suspicion, jealousy, distrust. A man of moral 
confidence is of a childlike spirit. His disposition is open, 
frank, genial. His experience of the falsehoods and de- 
ceits practised by men, has not destroyed his faith in hu- 
manity, nor in the principles of morality, nor in the ulti- 
mate triumph of virtue ; much less in the truth and pro- 
mises of God. In all these he still confides, with the 
simplicity of childhood. 

This confidence is characterized with an emotion of 

'^ Brown's Phil., Vol. IL, p. 121. 



234 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

calm and steadfast repose. A sublime virtue in itself, it 
is also the basis of many others. Without it, '^ it is impos- 
sible to please God ; " impossible to fight snccessfuUj the 
great battle of life. It gives courage to encounter danger, 
and fortitude to endure suffering, in the faithful discharge 
of duty. It has ever animated the struggles of good men 
in the cause of virtue and religion. It has supported mar- 
tyrs at the stake. 

Thus important to the cause of morality and religion, 
in a general view, it is equally essential to the individual 
relations of man to man. Without it, society could not 
exist, even in its most limited form. It is the indispensa- 
ble bond of union in the conjugal relation. Remove it, 
and all domestic bliss, even the matrimonial covenant 
itself, is at an end. And he who reposes with no genial 
and confiding emotion npon his brother man; who con- 
templates all aronnd him with a cold, calculating distrust ; 
virtually bids adieu to the charms of social life, and spends 
his days in the gloom of a solitary cell. 

Emotion of Self-appkobatiojst. — ^The delightful emo- 
tion attending a good conscience may seem to be rather a 
reward of virtue than virtue itself. But the fact that it is 
the exponent of a good conscience, and utters its sympa- 
thies with every right act, in the satisfaction it imparts, 
proves that it is itself morally excellent. It is scarcely 
less the duty than the privilege of the good man, to 
cherish the pleasing emotion that arises in his soul in 
consideration of having done right. This feeling was 
divinely intended to nourish his good purposes and nerve 
him to future duty. The joy of a good conscience is his 
strength. With this, he can face the frowning world; 
with this, enter the lion's den. 

In vain, then, does the skeptic deride, and the ultra- 
moralist disown, this grateful emotion. Consciousness is 



MORAL ACTION. 235 

firmly and for ever against them. There is substantial 
joy imparted by an approving conscience, and that joy is 
itself an element of moral excellence. The man who could 
derive no other satisfaction from having, under trying 
circumstances, faithfully discharged his duty, than from 
having merely obeyed the demands of appetite, would be 
wanting in one of the most essential elements of a good char- 
acter. What an evidence of the wisdom and goodness of 
the Creator, that he has thus identified duty with happiness. 

Emotion of Hope. — ^The animating feeling awakened 
in the heart of a good man, in anticipation of benefits to 
be secured to himself and to others by a course of faithful 
service, is an emotion of hope. He prizes moral worthi- 
ness, it is true, for its own sake ; but the ultimate reward 
of good endeavor has also a value, which he was made to 
anticipate with joy. Moses doubtless prized the excel- 
lence of self-sacrificing devotion to the welfare of mankind, 
for its own sake ; but he also " had respect to the recom- 
pense of reward." 

The hope of securing %Qim.Q future benefit, to ourselves 
or to others, as the reward of faithful endeavors, is an in- 
dispensable motive to all benevolent enterprise. Without 
it, little would ever be done to elevate the character, or 
improve the condition of mankind. 

It was this that induced Howard to explore dungeons 
and ^' take the gauge and dimensions of feuman misery ; " 
that nerved Washington to the long and arduous confiict 
for the freedom of his country; that prompts the true- 
hearted missionary to forsake home and kindred to extend 
the blessings of Christianity to benighted nations. The 
same it was, that made Moses willing to " suffer afiiiction 
with the people of God ; " and, to pass from these to an 
example transcendently surpassing all others, it was this 
that animated the heart of the author and finisher of our 



236 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

faith; " who, for the joy that was set hefore him^ endured 
the cross, despising the shame." 

The man who goes forth to sow with no cheering anti- 
cipation of a harvest, will sow sparingly and reap also 
sparingly. For the same reason, the man who attempts 
to go forth in the great conflict of this life, sustained by 
no hope reaching to the life that is to come, is more to be 
pitied than commended. What the heart does not joy- 
fully anticipate, the hand cannot vigorously achieve. 
Other things equal, those with whom the emotion of hope 
is most active, are the most successful. " We are saved 
ty hojpe.^'^ 

VARIOUS UNCLASSIFIED EMOTIONS. 

In addition to the above classes, there is a large variety 
of emotions indicated by the general terms sorrow, grief, 
sadness, &c., which may be purely natural or partly 
moral. The spontaneous gush of sorrow, or outburst of 
grief, or feeling of sadness, when death or disaster approach 
us, is as natural as our breath. I^ot to be thus moved, 
would be most unnatural. And it is no stinted measm^e 
of emotions like these, that is allotted to humanity. This 
is a world of disappointments and losses, and of groans and 
tears. Every heart must heave with sorrow, every eye 
must weep, every spirit must be weighed down with grief. 

This might •not have been so, were there no sin; 
but it does not follow that the sorrow which sin has made 
necessary, is itself wrong. It is wrong in the child to 
need chastisement, but the painful feeling involved in the 
chastisement, is unavoidable. The moral wrong of remorse 
is, that it is the feeling of a guilty conscience, which might 
and should find peace in repentance. But no repentance 
can bring back the lost child to the mother's arms, or the 
lost husband to the widow's agonized bosom. She may 



MORAL ACTION. 237 

find repose and consolation in the grace of God, but nature 
must weep still. 

Nor let her be severely judged, if she incline to nourish 
her grief, and to shed unseen many sacred tears over the 
grave of bereaved affection. It must be so. She is not 
the true mother, or the true wife, if it be otherwise. Then 
let those smitten with sorrow weep freely and unrebuked. 
There is sacredness in their sorrow ; the unfeeling stranger 
shall not intermeddle with it; no cold philosophy shall 
interpose its rebuke; but He who wept at the grave of 
Lazarus, will mingle his tears with theirs. 

The moral quality of all such sorrow, depends upon 
the direction it takes. If it leads to murmuring, repining, 
rebellion, ; if it thus removes the heart farther from God, 
and hardens it against him ; it is decidedly evil. But if 
it leads to submission, trust, loyalty ; if it thus brings the 
soul nearer to God, and renders his love more precious ; 
it is decidedly good. The end of the chastisement is then 
gained, and God's own hand will in due time wipe every 
tear away. " It is good for me that I have been aifiicted, 
that I might learn thy statutes.'''^ 

That we may impart the right character to all our 
emotions of grief and sorrow, we should ever look up from 
them to our Heavenly Father and compassionate Saviour ; 
consider that he loves us still, although he chastises, and 
chastises hecmise he loves us ; and never cease to remember 
that, however much we may deserve and feel his rebuke, 
" like as a father pitieth his children^ so the Lord pitieth 
them that fear him ; for he hnoweth our frame / he re- 
memhereth that we ojre dustP 



CHAPTER YI. 

MORALLY WRONG EMOTION". 

The class of emotions now to be examined are the oppo- 
site to those of the preceding chapter. While those per- 
tain to affections, desires, purposes, which are morally 
right, these pertain to such as are morally wrong. 

Emotion of Hatred. — As moral love implies compla- 
cence towards its object with benevolent desire for his 
welfare, so hatred implies aversion towards him, with ma- 
levolent desire for his injmy. From this perverse state 
of heart arises the emotion in question. Sometimes it 
mounts to a passion, at other times, it is not so much a 
passion as an emotion of settled and deliberate hate. 

Such a feeling, as we have shown in the chapter upon 
malevolent affection, is never to be justified. If men 
would injure us or ours, we should defend ourselves by 
bringing them to justice, but indulge no revengeful tem- 
per. Our emotion should be that of abhorrence of their 
deeds, blended with benevolent compassion towards them- 
selves. Such were the feelings of Jesus Christ towards 
his enemies. He never manifested a malevolent emotion. 

Emotion of Anger. — ^This is a passionate emotion ex 



MOEAL ACTION. 239 

cited against tliose who we suppose have intentionally 
injured ns. It may be a mere instinctive emotion, having 
only self-defence for its object. This is an impulse im- 
planted in our nature for important ends. He who could 
receive a wanton blow in the face, or hear himself reviled, 
with no other emotion than he would feel towards an act 
of courtesy, must be something other than a man. 

ITor is it any part of duty to repress the emotion, 
which simply prompts to self-defence. "Be ye angry, 
and sin notP But when the emotion springs from a ma- 
levolent desire to injure its object, it is never innocent. ^'^ 
It is a murderous fiend. " He that hateth his brother, is 
a murderer.'^'' 

The vice of malicious anger is one of small and selfish 
minds. He who indulges it, is usually a person of nar- 
row views, fiery spirit, and mean ambition. Restive and 
impetuous, he would rush madly upon his victim, to deal 
out to him the retribution which rightful authority has 
placed in better hands. 

Eetribution should never be inflicted by a person in 
anger. It is next to impossible for an angry person to 
inflict punishment, without doing something to be subse- 
quently regretted. The passionate man is a dangerous 
citizen. He is a foe to law and to mankind, but especially 
to his own household and to himself. 

Emotion of Revenge. — ^This emotion is of a more malig- 
nant and desperate type than that of anger, being more cal- 
culating and protracted. The angry man is soon over the 
passion ; the revengeful man, never. The motive of revenge - 
is the mere gratification of a malicious temper. It contem- 
plates the welfare of neither party ; for it often prompts 
one to infiict evil upon another, when he knows that he 
thereby infiicts evil upon himself. 

It makes its subject more infernal than human. It is 



240 MORAIi PHILOSOPHY. 

a fv/por^ urging him in defiance of all law and equity to 
inflict injury upon his fellow-being. Keputation, property, 
life itself, are all in jeopardy by his presence. Falsehood, ^ ^ ^ 
slander, arson, murder, are all in his service. , 

In savage tribes, where there is little law and govern- 
ment, the revengeful man is the most terrible and destruc- 
tive of all possible foes. No wild beast, no raging pesti- 
lence, is half so dreadful ; for his fury is guided and in- 
tensified by a human intellect^ which renders it surer and 
more effective. Hence civil governments justly set the 
blackest mark of reprobation upon this fearful vice. 

It is equally condemned by Christianity. " Recom- 
pense to no man evil for evil^ " Aveiige not yourselves." 
" Yengeance is mine ; I will repay, saith the Lord." 
'' Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, 
give him drink." 

Emotion of Envy. — This is a feeling of discontent at 
another's prosperity. Like all other malevolent emotions, 
it is attended with pain. As this pain is peculiar, there 
being no other like it, it can of course be known only as 
it is experienced. It respects something relating to another, 
not to one's self; hence it is unlike regret, and still more 
unlike remorse. 

Cicero remarks that envy is felt towards one that is 
an equal, or nearly an equal, mo]'e than towards one far 
above or far beneath us. This is doubtless true ; and it is 
owing to the fact that there is more rivalry in the one 
case, than in the other. 

For the same reason, it is apt to exist between those 
of the same aspirations and pursuits. Thus it often exists 
between fellow-students, who are of nearly the same stand- 
ing, and in pursuit of the same prize ; between ladies of 
the same company, each of whom aspires to be the belle ; 
between men of the same profession in a town, each of 



MORAL ACTION. 241 

whom covets the patronage ; between candidates for an 
office, who are alike anxious to succeed. Hence, rivalry 
and envy are usually nnited. 

Still, envy is confined to no rank nor calling. It some- 
times forces its dark wing the whole distance from the 
dunghill to the throne, compelling its wretched subject 
to seek relief in the calamity of those related to him only 
as fellow-beings. Its protection is hypocrisy and deceit ; 
its instruments are falsehood and slander ; its food, the 
misfortunes of others ; and its end, if allow^ed long to rule 
the heart, the ruin of its miserable subject. 

He who would escape one of earth's direst curses, must 
keep all envy out of his heart, and also keep himself at 
the farthest possible remove from envious persons. " Their 
teeth are sjpecurs and arrows^ and their tongue a sharp 
sword.^^ Persons of an envious spirit are given to slander. 
By this we may know them. 

Emotion of Obstinacy. — Firmness in resisting evil is 
always noble. Obstinacy is a sort of counterfeit of this 
virtue. It is a mulish and dogged feeling, defying reason 
and argument, and set on having its own way. The ob' 
stinate man lacks delicacy and refinement of temper. He 
is a churl. 

The emotion of obstinacy may be no less vivid and 
active than that of penitence. In the relations of man 
with man, the two emotions are counterpart to each other. 
Penitence is yielding ; impenitence is obstinate ; and there 
is as much moral activity in resisting conviction of duty, 
as in yielding to it. The former is, therefore, as truly a 
vice, as the latter is a virtue. 

The child who allows the feeling of aversion to parental 

authority to rule his heart and sway his conduct ; the pupil 

who allows the same in relation to school authority ; will, 

in later years, find this feeling prompting him to resist the 

11 



24:2 MOEAL PHTLOSOPHT. 

authority of the State, and perhaps to perpetrate those acts 
of rebellion which will complete his ruin. Hence children 
should be taught, from their earliest years, to be equally 
firm in resisting evil, and docile and yielding to every 
conviction of duty. 

Emotion of Pkide. — ^There is a feeling of satisfaction 
in view of worthy attainments as the fruit of virtuous 
industry, which is no part of pride, but which some writers 
have called by this name. There is no virtue in being 
blind, or even indifferent, to our attainments, whether 
personal or adventitious. On the contrary, it is our duty 
to know ourselves, and the extent of our circumstantial 
advantages. Pride and humility are opposite terms. The 
one makes a man think more highly of himself than he 
ought to think ; the other makes him think oTily as highly 
of himself as he ought to think. The vice of pride is in 
the disposition itself; not at all depending upon its object. 

Thus, one man is proud of his dog; another, of his 
horse ; another, of his person. One man is proud of his 
wealth; another, of his family; another, of his intellect. 
Sonae of these are much nobler possessions than others ; 
but the vice in question does not lie in being proud of 
unworthy objects, but in being proud at all. It is a vice 
of all conditions. It may mingle with the loftiest as well 
as the meanest pursuits. The same man who, under one 
kind of training and one set of circumstances, would be 
proud of his intellectual attainments, or of his post of 
honor, would, under others, be proud of his coat, or of his 
moustache, or of his distinction in a street riot. 

Although some writers, from associating the disposition 
itself with the objects and circumstances in relation to 
which it is exercised, have spoken of a commendable pride, 
yet, strictly speaking, there can be no such thing. Pure 
morality condemns it. We might as well speak of a com- 



MOEAL ACTION. 24:3 

mendable envy. Eeligion, too, is no less sweeping in her 
condemnation. All pride is forbidden in the Bible. There 
is not an instance in which the sacred writers employ the 
term in any other than a bad sense. 

It does indeed betray a most pitiable folly, as well as 
vice, to be proud of contemptible attainments ; and it cer- 
tainly bespeaks a man in the lowest stages of degeneracy, 
to be proud of that which he ought to be ashamed of; 
but all this does not abate the folly and the vice of him, 
who, having risen to eminence in knowledge and power, 
spoils the glory of the whole by being proud of it. In 
point of attainment, he is better off than his less informed 
and less fortunate neighbors, who are proud of their fine 
apparel and gorgeous furniture ; but in point of character, 
so far as pride is concerned, he is neither wiser nor better 
than they. 

Emotion of Jealousy. — ^This is nearly the opposite to 
confidence. As the latter is an emotion of trust and com- 
posure, the former is one of distrust and uneasiness. The 
term is usually applied to distrust in love. Thus the suitor 
is jealous of his lady, or the lady of her suitor ; the husband 
of his wife, or the wife of her husband, when either party 
suspects the fidelity of the other. But the term is not 
restricted to these relations. 

Unlike pride, jealousy may be a just and proper emo- 
tion; since there may be real cause for it. Although no 
possible cause can justify us in being proud, there may be 
causes to justify us in being jealous. I^ot only morality, 
but religion, admits of a righteous jealousy. The sacred 
writers ascribe it to God himself. They never speak of 
his being proud, but they speak of his being jealous. " I 
the Lord thy God am a jealous God." They ascribe the 
same to pious men, as a religious emotion. '' I om. jealous 
over you," said an apostle, ''with godly jealousy." 



24:4 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

But the term is generally used in a had sense, because 
a prevailing disposition to jealousy is evil. It is in this 
respect like anger. Although, under certain provocations, 
a man may be " angry and sin not," yet, prevailing jpr(?7i^- 
ness to anger indicates malevolence; so, while circum- 
stances may sometimes justify jealousy, yet proneness to 
jealousy indicates the want of a loving and generous 
spirit. Love and generosity are always confiding. Hence 
jealousy, as a prevailing temper, is selfish and mean. 

We look upon a jealous-minded person with distrust 
and contempt. We are never at ease in his presence. We 
expect him to scan all our looks, words, and actions, and 
to construe them to our disadvantage. Jealousy cannot 
see things in their true light ; she is '' green-eyed." She 
is thus a mortal foe to all domestic and social bliss. Under 
the influence of this direful emotion, men have proceeded 
from slander, falsehood, abuse, to the desperate acts of 
murder and suicide. For ''jealousy is the rage of a man, 
therefore he will not sjpare in the day of vengeance." 
"Jealousy is oruel as the grave; the coals thereof are coals 
of fire, which hath a most veJiement heat.^^ 

Emotion of Remokse. — We have already noticed re- 
morse, in connection with conscience. We refer to it in 
this connection, not to distinguish between remorse itself 
and its attending emotion, for the distinction is not im- 
portant, but to notice more particularly its emotional 
nature. We now particularly refer to the vivid com- 
punction of conscience, more or less consequent on mis- 
doing. This is always a painful, and sometimes even an 
agonizing emotion. It is of every degree of intensity, 
from the feeblest twinges to the most terrible throbs of 
anguish. 

Conscience gives premonitions, to prevent contemplated 
crime ; but if the person persists in doing it, she often 



MOKAL ACTION. 245 

allows him to go on and complete his work, and to become 
entangled in the snares which he has laid for his own feet, 
before she again serionsly disturbs him. Tlien, in hours 
of reflection, when memory recalls the past, and sets his 
conduct before him in its true light, she resumes her work. 
She does not inflict upon him her severest pangs at first ; 
her retributions, like his crimes, approach gradually. The 
more he reflects, the more she rebukes him. For this 
reason, he often seeks to drown reflection, by plunging 
into active cares and amusements. But relief thus ob- 
tained is temporary, and is usually followed by still 
severer pangs ; for the time at length comes when he must 
reflect, and that continuously. 

Sometimes the compunctious emotion is very violent, 
and even spasmodic; urging its wretched subject to des- 
peration and even to suicide. But at other times it takes 
the chronic type, embittering his whole life. He cannot 
again feel as he did in the days of his innocence ; some- 
thing like a canker-worm gnaws perpetually at his heart. 
In vain he exclaims, " that I were as in months jpastP 

He can never again be as he has been. Sometimes he 
is fain to say, " O that I had wings like a dove, for then I 
would flee away and he at restP Unhappy man ! Were 
he gifted with even morning's bright wings, and could he 
fly apace as upon a sunbeam to distant climes, and even 
to distant worlds, he could neither escape himself, nor 
that unchanging law which binds iniquity and misery 
indissolubly together. 

He may find some relief in a well-formed purpose of 
amendment, followed by reformation of conduct. If he 
regains the path of virtue and steadfastly pursues it for a 
period of years, his pains of conscience may be greatly 
mitigated; but they can be fully and for ever removed^ 
only as he becomes truly penitent hefore God for all his 



246 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

sins, and lays hold hy faith ujpon the gracious p^'ovisions 
of the Gospel. 

Emotion of Despair. — ^This is seldom experienced on 
earth, and is indeed but little known, except in some of 
its more obvious effects. Wben it is of a moral nature, it 
includes a feeling of remorse, intensified with a new ele- 
ment of malignity by the utter exclusion of hope. Indeed 
the entire absence of hope gives birth to the characteristic 
emotion of despair. Could we then imagine the feeling 
of one suffering the severest stings of conscience, with no 
hope of ever finding relief from them, we should have 
some just notion of despair. 

Its suffering is so intense, that it cannot be long en- 
dured without dethronement of reason. It therefore often 
prompts to suicide. There are other inducements to this 
act, found in morbid physical and mental states ; so that 
the act does not always imply guilt. But in cases like 
those to which we have referred, it does imply guilt, and 
that of the deepest dye. The wretched sufferer, whether 
he believes or not in a future state, probably concludes, if 
he reasons at all, that his condition can be no worse, and 
may possibly be better, by making the fearful plunge. 
Perhaps, in the absence of all hope of a better state of 
existence, the thought of annihilation flits as a gleam of 
light across his distempered brain, and with exulting 
madness he leaps to embrace the dread reality. 

But it is not profitable to dwell upon these appalling 
retributions of crime. Philosophy has done her duty, 
when she has pointed them out, and has lifted her warn- 
ing voice against every approach to them. 



CHAPTEE yn. 



MORALLY KiaHT WILL 



MoEAL will is a rational choice or purpose in reference to 
duty. Morally right will is an honest choice or pnrpose 
to enlighten and obey conscience ; or, which is the same 
thing, to do what duty requires. Such should be the gov- 
erning aim of every man, regulating all his appetites, 
affections, desires, emotions. 

Right agency of Will over the Appetites. — ^There 
are two ways in which man may control his appetites. 

First, he can avoid temptations. He can shun the so- 
ciety and the places which unduly excite them. If inclined 
to inebriation, he should not " look upon the wine when it 
is red, when it giveth its color in the cup, when it moveth 
itself aright." Considering that '' at the last it biteth like 
a serpent, and stingeth like an adder," he should wisely 
avoid the tempter. He should resolutely do the same in 
regard to every temptation, by which virtue is endangered. 
It is mockery to pray, "Lead us not into temptation," 
without a determination to shun it. 

Secondly, if inadvertently drawn into temptation, he 



24:8 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

should firmly resist it. If lie has allowed the first citadel 
to be taken, and the tempter to approach him, he must the 
more manfully resist in the second. Here is no surprise. 
His eyes are now opened. He sees his danger, he knows 
his duty, and conscience urges him to do it. ]S"ow is the 
time for him to be yaliant, and to say with a brave spirit 
of other days, " I have set my face like aJUnt^ and I know 
that I shall not he ashamed.'''' 

Eight agency of Will ovek the Affections. — ^We 
have previously noticed the distinction between the will 
and the affections. The question now is. What control 
may we exert by the former ever the latter? Suppose a 
man to be conscious of a malevolent affection towards a 
fellow-being. Can he by a direct executive act of will 
expel it at once from his heart ? Experience answers in 
the negative. The evil spirit is already in his heart ; it 
has obtained a lodgment, and so strengthened itself there, 
that it does not readily yield. 

But he can take effectual means to mortify and svhdue 
it. He can refrain his lips from the slander which it 
prompts ; he can condemn the spirit itself, and refuse 
every act to which it urges. And while thus refusing it 
indulgence, he can seek to cultivate the spirit of forgive- 
ness and kindness. A sincere and firm determination to 
this end is a morally right choice, and tends to beget the 
spirit of love. If when he " would do good, evil is still 
present with " him, let him firmly persist in the right pur- 
pose, and what he ''•would^'' be, he eventually will be. 

A more difficult point remains. Suppose a person to 
be conscious of not loving God. Can he, by a direct act 
of will, render to him the affection due ? The truth is, in 
such a case, before the Gospel takes effect, that he does 
not really will to love God. We never sincerely will to 
love a person whom we have offended and who is justly 



MOEAI. ACTION. 249 

displeased with iis, unless penitent for our misconduct to- 
wards him. Sin renders man proud and self-willed, indis- 
posed to repentance and submission. He is willing to be 
saved^ but not to obey. If through grace he becomes pen- 
itent, and is thus sincerely willing to serve God, but is 
still painfully conscious of unstable or inadequate affec- 
tion for him, he should, through all mutations and condi- 
tions of feeling, firmly maintain his purpose of allegiance 
to him ; promptly submitting to every self-denial and per- 
forming every duty enjoined, and ever relying with im- 
plicit trust in Him by whom we receive " power to be- 
come the sons of God," and who is '' able even to subdue 
all things to himself." He will thus succeed at last, and 
his character, in some future day, will shine in the full- 
orbed radiance of an entire and perfect devotion to God. 

This direction is of course valid only in the case of 
those who believe the Gospel to be a divine revelation. 
They who reject Christ nmst remain, for aught I can see, 
" without God in the world." Whatever philosophy may 
achieve in mere social virtue and secular morality, she 
knows " none other name under heaven given among men, 
whereby we must be saved." 

It has been shown that we are naturally inclined to 
love our families, our friends, and our fellow-beings gen- 
erally, with whom we associate. Love is the normal state 
of affection. ISTo direct effort of will is therefore here re- 
quired, except to cultivate and control the affection, and 
thus give it moral worth, by a faithful discharge of all 
the duties to which it prompts. 

Right agency of the "Will over the Desires. — Wq 
should will to cherish those desires which are purely nat- 
ural, and to seek their ends by lawful means. For in- 
stance, the desire of life is natural. To cherish this de- 
sire, to exert a purposed guardianship over life, to seek 
11* 



250 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

to prolong it by means which God has appointed, implies 
a right exercise of will in this particular. The same is 
the office of the will in relation to all the natural desires. 

But some have contended that, although we are guilty 
for leing the subjects of wrong desires, when they have 
gained a certain ascendency they so cripple and enslave 
the will as to impel its choices in spite of us. 

On this point the following remarks are quite to our 
purpose. " The hypothesis that desires impel the will to 
act, is inconsistent with observed facts. If this hypothesis 
were true, the phenomena of volition would be very dif- 
ferent from what they are. A man may desire that it 
should rain, for example ; he may have the most intense 
feeling on this subject imaginable, and there may be no 
counteracting desire or feeling whatever. ISTow if desire 
ever impelled a man to. volition, it would induce him, in 
such a case, to will that it should rain. But no man in 
his senses ever put forth a volition to make it rain. And 
why ? Just because he is a rational creature, and knows 
that his volition cannot produce any such effect." 

" In the same manner, a man might desire to fly, or to 
do a thousand other things which are beyond his power ; 
and yet not make the least effort to do so, not because he 
has no power to put forth such efforts, but because he does 
not choose to make a fool of himself. This shows that 
desire, feeling, &c., is merely one of the conditions neces- 
sary to volition, and not its procuring cause." * 

The plain truth is, no desire can impel a rational being 
to any executive choice, against which he can see sufficient 
reasons / and as he can always see sufficient reasons for not 
choosing to gratify vicious desires, it is in his power, and 
is his duty, to deny and master them. Hence that man is 

* Bledsoe's Examination. 



MORAL ACTION. 251 

guilty of a perverse will, who allows any corrupt desire 
to have dominion over him. 

We are sometimes conscious of conflicting desires. 
Can a man actually desire ojpjposite things, the right and 
the wrong, at the same time ? The case seems to be like 
that of divided attention. The transitions of attention are 
often so rapid as to elude our notice, and thus lead us to 
suppose that the mind is actually directed to two or more 
objects at the same instant. When a person contemplates 
the motive to a virtuous course, he is inclined to that ; 
when he contemplates the allurements to a vicious course, 
he is inclined to that. For some reasons he desires the 
one, for other reasons he desires the other ; and yet he 
cannot prefer both. He balances betwixt conflicting 
desires. 

But he may exercise his rational judgment and will. 
Self-control does not come of his merely desiring but of 
his willing. To deny this, is to deny his consciousness. 
It is his duty to will., in obedience to conscience, and 
despite of all desires to the contrary, to take the right 
course. The consequence of such a choice, faithfully sus- 
tained, will be the eventual subjugation of every wrong 
desire to its rightful authority. 

Right agency of Will over the Emotions. — ^When 
the will maintains rightful ascendency over the affec- 
tions and desires, it governs all the emotions which per- 
tain to them. The will should govern passionate emo- 
tions, and all mental excitements in which the emotional 
element predominates, precisely as it should the appetites. 
Most of them arise from causes which we can foresee, and 
can thus solicit or avoid, according as the prospective emo- 
tion is good or bad. If we can reasonably anticipate the 
cause of a bad emotion, and yet willingly expose ourselves 
to it, we are as responsible for that emotion as a man is 



252 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

for the flames which consume the building to which he 
voluntarily applied the torch. A man of hasty temper 
should be especially guarded at this point. 

If his passion is already excited, he should by a firm 
exertion of will hold himself in a state of silent quiescence, 
until passion has had time to cool, reason to regain her 
seat, and he is thus qualified again to act as a rational 
being. If every passionate person would do thus, violence 
would soon cease from the earth. 

There is not a good emotion which may not be nour- 
ished and rendered immortal, and there is not an evil 
emotion which may not be rebuked and finally overcome, 
by the firm and persistent determination of an upright will. 

Thus was man constituted to exercise a free and wil- 
ling control over all his appetites, affections, desires, and 
emotions, and to keep them in due subjection to the law 
of God. 

MOEAL CERTAINTY DOES NOT IMPAIR FREEDOM. 

It has been asserted, that if men are thus free and 
sovereign in the exercise of their wills, there can be no 
moral certainty in regard to their future choices. There 
is moral certainty ; and in the divine mind all our future 
actions must be as well known as the past. It may be 
morally certain, even to us^ how a man will choose in 
a given case ; but this does not impair his freedom nor 
his responsibility in the volition ; nay, it rather enhances 
them. 

It may be morally certain, for instance, that a man 
practised in iniquity will, under certain temptations, ac- 
cept of a bribe. Still he is as free and responsible in his 
choice, as though there were no certainty in the case. 
He acts even onore unrestrainedly in his choices now, than 
in the earlier and more hesitating stages of his depravity ; 



I 



"^ V^ MOKAL ACTION. 253 

his choice is therefore a more convincing demonstration 
of confirmed guilt. The worse a man is, the more certain 
it is that he will do wrong, and the more free and earnest 
he is in choosing to do so. 

And so also the man of whom there can be no doubt 
that he will choose rights in a case of unquestionable duty^ 

\^ is a person of higher moral excellence than one of whose 
choice we have reason to doubt. We know men of whom 
we no more doubt, beforehand, whether they will choose 
to do right, than we doubt, after the result has transpired, 

, ~ whether they have chosen to do so. TL's is not because 

^ their wills are in bondage, and the freedom and virtue of 

. their choice are thus impaired, but because they are per- 

^ sons of such known excellence of character. 

\^ Such is moral certainty, and such is its consistency 

^ with human freedom; a certainty which must in the 
divine mind embrace all future as well as all past human 

^^ choices, and a freedom not at all impaired, but even aug- 
mented and confirmed, by the certainty. 

TEUE MOEAi EECTITUDE. 

It follows from the view we have taken, that true 
moral rectitude is the free and willing subjection of all 
the appetites, affections, desires, emotions, tastes, to the 
demands of an enlightened and faithful conscience. This 
is the standard of natural morality. Such would be our 
duty, if we had no special revelation from God. So far 
as one fails in either of these particulars, he comes short 
of what he ought to be. He may be right in respect to 
some of them, and faulty in respect to others. He may 
govern his appetites, he may be strictly temperate and 
chaste, but fail to govern his affections, desires, or passions; 
he may be malicious, or covetous, or passionate. He may 



254 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

perhaps hold in check some -vvi'ong feeling which he less 
cares to indulge, that he maj give the freer rein to a fa- 
vorite lust. Thus he may be temperate from a motive of 
avarice, chaste from a motive of ambition, generous from 
a motive of vanity. Such is not true moral rectitude. 

Unlike this is the case of him, whose governing prin- 
ciple is the subjection of all his powers and propensities 
to the rule of right. He may be conscious of coming short 
in some or even in all particulars, but he is right in the 
main article. Such a man is neither wilfully perverse, on 
the one hand, nor perfect, on the other. A constant war- 
fare with all that remains in him of evil must be his, until 
the victory is won. Such is morally right will. 

The conflict which every person aspiring to moral rec- 
titude must maintain with evils within and around him, 
demands courage, fortitude, and firmness. As these per- 
tain chiefly to the will, we shall notice them here. 

CoTJKAGE. — The principal element of this virtue is a 
firm and steady determination. It implies intrepidity of 
purpose amidst all dangers that may beset the path of 
duty. We sometimes speak of the courageousness of a 
man in doing wrong. This is not courage, but reckless- 
ness in crime. The word, both in its etymology and use, 
indicates whole-heartedness ; and this can exist only in 
reference to what a man believes -to be right. If there is 
any misgiving on this point, the heart cannot be thoroughly 
sound and strong in the matter. 

True courage, then, supposes an honest conviction of 
being righteously engaged in a righteous cause. It carries 
with it the conscience, the afi"ections, desires, emotions ; 
in a word, the whole heart. All the impulses of the soul 
are taken up by the rational will, and concentrated upon 
its object. It is the honest conviction of duty that thus 
nerves the good man to the conflict; it renders him fear- 



MOKAL ACTION. 255 

less of reproach and slander; it is his shield and his sword 
on the field of battle. 

It was true courage that emboldened Paul to contend 
manfully for the truth, in opposition to the combined hos- 
tility of Jews and Gentiles ; that made Luther stand erect, 
in the great struggle for civil and religious freedom. It 
was this, that more than once delivered Greece from her 
formidable foes, and that fought the battles of our own 
national independence. In a world where virtue has so 
much to contend with, a man without courage is a useless 
and pitiable object. 

FoETiTUDE. — ^While courage is a prominently active 
virtue, fortitude is more jpasswe. The former struggles 
and contends, the latter suffers and endures. Men have 
usually more courage ; women more fortitude. 

But these virtues are always to some extent combined. 
Perseverance in conflict, implies also the spirit of endu- 
rance. Daniel and Paul seem to have had as much forti- 
tude in the dens of wild beasts as courage in the courts of 
wicked tyrants. The fortitude of John Rogers at the 
stake, of La Fayette in prison, of Washington in trial and 
disaster, was equalled by their courage to face hostility 
and death in the conflict for truth and freedom. 

True fortitude, like courage, is found only in integrity 
of heart. It is among the sublimest of virtues. It may 
not be irreverent to add, that it shone second to none in the 
constellation of virtues which crowned the life and death 
of Jesus Christ. 

riK:MKESs. — ^This implies steadfastness of purpose, and 
is opposed to fickleness. But it is more than steadfast- 
ness ; for a man may be steadfast in crime. This is ob- 
stinacy. True firmness, like courage and fortitude, is 
based upon honest convictions, and dwells only with 
integrity of heart. 



256 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

A man of moral firmness has an iron will ; but the'iron 
is tempered with benignity, and glows with love. En- 
lightened judgment, an active conscience, a supreme re- 
gard to duty, guide that will and give to it enduring 
command. 

Such a will no power can break, no temptation bend. 
"Wielded in obedience to the will of heaven, it has omni- 
potence with it. Men may torment and kill the body, 
but they cannot subdue the will of a truly firm and right- 
eous man in a righteous cause. Dungeons, scaff'olds, fires, 
racks, have all proved equally powerless with. bribes and 
flatteries, to move him from his lofty purpose. Amidst 
them all he stands erect, like granite rock, around which 
ocean waves eternally dash in vain. ->- 



CHAPTEE yni. 

MORALLY WRONG WILL. 

The mere animal can will only in obedience to instinct j 
man can will from a regard to duty. When false to con- 
science, lie sinks in some respects below the brute ; for the 
brute has a larger endowment of instinct than he, which 
does not allow the self-abasement which he can practise. 
By acting irrationally he may fall as far helow brntes, as 
in the constitution of his being he is superior to them. 

It is then obvious why he ought to goyern his animal 
nature by his rational, and not his rational nature by his 
animal. It is because he was made to act, not as a mere 
animal, or something worse, but as a rational and account- 
able being. "We must not, however, identify his rational 
jpowers with himself. They are not himself, any more 
than his animal impulses are. The former, as truly as the 
latter, belong to him. The latter qualify him to act as an 
animal ; the former, added to the latter, qualify him to act 
as a rational being ; but neither nor all combined are the 
identical J?er5^?^ indicated when he says I. It is the Ego^ 
that efficiently moves the will, and by it, directly or indi- 
rectly, all the mental powers ; and, because endowed with 
reason and conscience, is responsible for the volitions. 



258 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

A man may exist with Ms reason dethroned and his 
moral powers thus entirely disabled. He is in that state 
the same person which he was at a previous period, when 
he was rational. The difference is, that he was then 
accountable for his acts, because he had the use of his 
rational powers, but now he is not accountable, because 
he has not the use of them. 

In this view the following remarks, which are sugges- 
tive and mainly correct, seem to need some modification. 
" Though each man's desires and affections," says Whe- 
well, "belong especially to himself, while reason is a 
common faculty in all men, we consider our reason as 
being ourselves^ rather than our desires and affections. 
We speak of desire, love, anger, as mastering us, or of 
ourselves as controlling them. K we decide to prefer 
some remote and abstract good to immediate pleasure ; 
or to conform to a rule which brings us present pain; 
which decision implies the exercise of reason ; we more 
particularly consider such acts as our own acts. Such acts 
are deemed especially the result, not of the impulse of our 
desires, but of our own volitions." "^ 

Here we pause to inquire. Can the " impulse of our 
desires " lead us to any executive acts whatever, except- 
ing as we will f And whenever we do " decide," is not 
the choice " our own act," and are we not personally re- 
sponsible for it ? This laying the blame of our lad con- 
duct upon the " desires and affections," because they he- 
long to us, and taking the credit of our good conduct, 
since it is dictated by our " reason as being ourselves^'' too 
often serves as a quieting panacea to conscience. 

Our author continues, "K we ask why we thus iden- 
tify ourselves with our rational part, rather than with our 

* Whewell, Vol. I. p. 58. 



MORAL ACTION. 259 

desires and affections, we reply, that it is because the 
reason alone is capable of that reflex act by which we be- 
come conscious of ourselves. To have so much thought 
as to distinguish between ourselves and our springs of ac- 
tion, is to be rational ; and the reason which can make 
this distinction, necessarily places us on one side, and the 
desires which make no such distinction, on the other. It 
is by the reason that we are conscious ; and hence we 
place the seat of our consciousness in the reason." 

But are not brutes, as well as we, conscious of their 
pains, pleasures, wants, &c. ? If they are hungry, are 
they not conscious of it ? K we tear their flesh, or de- 
prive the mothers of their young, do they not feel it^ and 
know that they feel it ? They are not conscious of rational 
perceptions, nor of moral acts, just because they have 
none ; but so far as they are the subjects of any thing to 
be conscious of, they evince as much consciousness as we 
do. Our reason, then, as related to consciousness, is 
merely the cause of our being conscious of more than 
they. Hence the argument from consciousness, that 
would identify ourselves with our reason, proves nothing. 

We quote further, " The habit of identifying ourselves 
with our reason, and not with our desires, is further indi- 
cated by the term passion, which is applied to desire and 
affection when uncontrolled by reason ; as if man, in such 
cases, were passive, and merely acted upon ; and as if he 
were really active, only when he acts in conformity with 
his reason. Thus we speak of a man's being in a passion, 
meaning an uncontrolled fit of anger ; and having a pas- 
sion for an object, meaning an uncontrolled desire." 

" Still, it is to be recollected that man, under the in- 
fluence of such passions, is not really passive. When he 
acts under such influences, he adopts the suggestions of 
desire or affection, and rejects the control of reason; but 



260 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

this he does in violation of reasonable rules. Passion 
does not prevent a man's knowing that there is a rule, 
and that he is violating it. To say that passion is irresis- 
tible, is to annihilate reason, and to exclude the most es- 
sential condition of human action." 

This is very true and important, but we are at the 
same time to remember, that whenever a sane man, 
whether from passion or any other cause, " adopts the sug- 
gestions of desire and affection, and rejects the control of 
reason," however unreasonably he may act^ he is still a rcb- 
tional heing^ and is himself entirely responsible for his 
acts. He " adopts " no suggestions, however urgent, but 
by the free consent of his will y and to yield to any " sug- 
gestions," in opposition to the plain dictates of reason and 
conscience, is a morally wrong choice. "Whenever he 
does this, conscience has a charge against A^m, and sooner 
or later he must be arraigned at her bar. 

EXTREME IMPTJLSrVE EXCITEMENTS. 

Tliat we have a responsible power of control over our 
ordinary impulses, no moralist denies. It is only under 
intense excitements, that the responsibility is questioned. 
But who shall decide where the limit of responsibility 
lies ? K responsibility diminishes, as passion increases ; 
if, under one degree of passion, a man is guilty for choos- 
ing to commit murder, but under a higher degree the 
same choice becomes guiltless ; we may as well throw up 
our courts of justice and let all the passions loose. 

Let us test the question by supposing an extreme case 
of each of the natural impulses. 

1. An Extreme Case of Appetite. — A man has by in- 
dulgence enraged a morbid appetite for strong drink, un- 
til it has risen to an agony. In such cases men have been 



MORAL ACTION. 261 

known to tear their own flesh, that they might avail them- 
selves of the alcohol furnished to dress their wonnd. Does 
the intensity of appetite in such a case justify a man in 
taking the fatal cup ? 

We firmly answer, no. It was by guilty indulgence 
that he brought himself into this fearful dilemma ; and 
now his only alternative is, to endure the pangs of self- 
denial and determined resistance, or to do worse ; to add 
to his guilt, and plunge onward to certain ruin. The first 
choice may involve the greater present sufi'ering ; but it 
is the pain of a man who submits to the amputation of a 
limb to save his life. 

To say that he cannot resist the temptation, is not true ; 
for thousands, in such cases, have resisted. Let him see 
you put a deadly poison in the cup, such as would kill 
him in five minutes, and he would not touch it. 

He can refuse, and no amount of suffering from the 
refusal of this or any morbid craving, can excuse him from 
acting the part of a rational being. It is his duty to de- 
cide, positively and at all hazards, to hold his appetite 
in perfect subjection to the laws of reason. 

2. Ajn Extee:me Case of Affection. — Instead of a ma- 
levolent affection, which most would admit should not be 
indulged, let us suppose a henevolent one. A man is pas- 
sionately in love. We will suppose his love to be such as, 
under ordinary circumstances, it would be right to grati- 
fy. But he sees positive and sufficient reasons why he 
should not choose the loved object for his wife. 

What ought he to do ? Should he give the preference 
to affection, or to reason ; to passion, or to conscience ? 
He must practise severe self-denial ; he must pluck out 
his right eye and cast it from him, or do worse. Sliall lie 
do the painful thing, or the worse thing ? To follow the 
leading of benevolent affection, is the general rule of 



262 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

right ; but there are cases when it conflicts with the 
higher law of reason and conscience ; and in all such cases 
the higher law must rule, and the self-denial, however 
painful, must be endured. 

3. An Extreme Case of Desike. — Suppose a man de- 
sires a portion of his neighbor's property. His neighbor 
is rich, and he himself is poor. His neighbor does not 
need all he has ; indeed there is reason to believe that he 
would be better off with less ; for so much property is a 
burden to him, and tempts his childi^en to idleness and 
vice. "Whereas, if he himself possessed a portion of it, 
he could thereby provide for the real wants of his family 
and could educate his children for respectability and use- 
fulness. What would thus be no loss to his neighbor, but 
great gain to himself and his family, why should he not 
choose to make his own ? 

He has only to use his neighbor's name, or employ 
some person to use it for him, and the paper is good in 
the market. The desire is urgent, he wills to obey it. 
He has noiirished the desire by plausible arguments, and 
now he sustains his decision by the same. But if the 
civil law detects him, it will not regard those arguments : 
neither will his conscience regard them. They will prove 
as a spider's web to ^protect hiin from even the civil law, 
and especially from the ever sure retributions of avenging 
conscience. 

And why ? Because he was made to govern his desire 
by the law of conscience, and not to govern his conscience 
by the law of desire. His desire of property was not in 
itself wi'ong ; but to desire to possess it by unrighteous 
means, was a wrong desire, and hence the choice to grat- 
ify that desire was an unrighteous choice. Here is guilt 
added to guilt, wrong choice added to wrong desire, hur- 
rying its victim to swift destruction. 



MOEAL ACTION. 263 

4. An Extreme Case of Emotion. — Let us suppose a 
man in the intensest passion of anger. He is not insane ; 
60 as to be irresponsible for his acts, but he is in such a 
temper of passion that he can scarcely refrain from strik- 
ing the fatal blow. He is in an agony to do it. It would 
give vent to his passion, and afford him infinite relief. 
Shall he do it'? If he does he is indicted for man- 
slaughter. 

Is the law unjust ? '^o. The law is right ; because, 
as we have said, the man was made to govern his impulses 
by his rational powers, and not his rational powers by his 
impulses. The law is right, not merely because it is pru- 
dential, and necessary to society, but because it is in ac- 
cordance with the constitution of our being, and is there- 
fore founded in essential morality. 

]N"ow if we are guilty for not governing by the law of 
conscience even our most v/rgent natural impulses, under 
the most powerful temptations to yield to them, no one 
can doubt that we are guilty for not governing, by the 
same law, those which are less urgent and more easily 
controlled. 

peemanent weong choice. 

We have considered wrong specifio choices. There is 
another kind of choice, deep and generic, which may be 
called permanent. A man may have a wrong choice, as 
well as a right one, as lasting as life. To fix upon a suit- 
able calling for life, and steadfastly pursue it, is right and 
important. It is the only way to insure success. As a 
man cannot succeed with divided efforts, he should early 
give his undivided and persistent choice to the pursuit for 
which he is best adapted, and, with strict regard to duty, 
accomplish in it the most he can. It is thus that the great- 
est and best of men have given their names to immortality. 



264 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The permanent wrong choice to which we refer is much 
the same as this, with the single momentous exception that 
it does not regard the law of conscience. The choice is 
supreme and absolute, not subordinate and conditional. 
Thus a man may choose wealth, literary distinction, mili- 
tary glory, office, power, the gratification of vanity, or 
mere pleasure, as his supreme object of pursuit. To be 
upright, just, pure ; to accomplish a mission of good to his 
fellow-beings ; to do the will of God ; is to him a subor- 
dinate consideration. 

That choice may go with him to the grave and mould 
his entire character. It is the ruling principle of his life. 
Suppose it to have grown to full and permanent effective- 
ness when he is at the age of twenty-five. He lives to the 
age of seventy-five, and thus maintains his choice fifty 
years. There is then charged to his account a wrong 
choice, fifty years old. It is a crime of half a century. 
It has lived to see his bright eye fade, his fair cheek 
ploughed with furrows, his black locks frosted and fallen, 
the marrow dug from his bones, and his once firm step 
tottering to the grave. His soul has become as withered 
and sightless as his body. We must leave him to settle 
his long and dread account with his conscience and his 
God. 

But we should not fail to notice the wrong done to 
others, as well as to himself, by that guilty choice. We 
should think of the tender sympathies it has crushed, the 
sweet charities it has withheld, the cruel games it has 
played with the necessities and credulities of men ; of the 
envious feelings, slanderous words, and unfair means, to 
which it has given rise; of its ruthless sacrifice of the 
peace, comfort, virtue, and hopes of men, whenever they 
came its way ; of the havoc it has made of parental, con- 
jugal, filial, fraternal love, of the love of humanity, and 



MOEAL ACTION. 265 

of the homage due to God. Its whole pathway of fifty 
years is strewed with mischief and crime. 

J^early the opposite to courage, fortitude, and firmness, 
noticed in the previous chapter, are cowardice, stoicism, 
and obstinacy. These, too, are qualities with which the 
will is mostly concerned, and they are as evil as the others 
are good. 

Cowardice. — ^This is the opposite to courage. It may 
result in part from a man's feebleness of nervous tempera- 
ment. So far it is not moral. It is usually due, however, 
to his want of a well-settled conviction of being in the 
right, or his consciousness of being in the wrong ; or to 
his want of confidence in the success of the cause ; or to 
his selfish fear to encounter danger ; or, worst of all, to his 
want of cordial and supreme devotion to truth and duty. • 
He takes counsel of selfish prudence, rather than of con- 
science. He is therefore of a weak and timid heart. His 
will is effeminate and sickly. 

A coward in any responsible position is a miserable 
poltroon, whose personal safety and selfish aims are to 
him more important than the cause which he is set to 
defend. He can therefore never be relied upon. How- 
ever boastful in the onset, he will prove treacherous in 
the conflict, whenever he fails to receive bright assurances. 
To pacify his childish fears and secure his selfish ends, he 
will in the hour of conflict abandon his most sacred prin- 
ciples and desert his best friends. In a world like this, 
where so many hard battles for the right against the wrong 
must be fought, a coward in any responsible position is 
sadly out of place. 

Stoicism. — ^This is not the opposite to fortitude, but 

a substitute for it. Fortitude affects no indifference to 

suffering, but patiently endures it. Stoicism 'affects to 

disregard both pleasure and pain altogether, It is 

12 



^Q6 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

a sullen and desperate will, resolved only on caring for 
nothing. 

Its rational basis is the doctrine of fatality. Adopting 
the necessitarian scheme, and considering our destiny 
fixed by the stars, the stoic makes a virtue of necessity, 
and determines to be as much a mere thing as possible. 
Truth does not teach him ; Providence does not admonish 
him; neither mercies nor judgments move him. Having 
assumed a false position, against which the sensibilities of 
his nature and the coui'se of Providence are at war, he 
endures all the pains and penalties of probation without 
any of its benefits or rewards. 

Obstinacy. — Xs stoicism is a vicious substitute for 
fortitude, so is obstinacy for firmness. The term obstinacy 
'is sometimes used in a good sense, as when we speak of 
soldiers fighting obstinately in a righteous cause. It how- 
ever usually denotes an um-easonable course of conduct. 
It sets reason and argument at defiance. It yields to no 
persuasion, and is reckless of consequences. It is thus a 
blind and sulky stubbornness of will, overmastering the 
rational powers. It implies narrow views and a mean 
spirit, and is sustained by an intensely selfish and sensi- 
tive jealousy. 

An obstinate man is apt to be sullen and revengeful. 
He is not usually quick to revenge, like a person of vivid 
emotions; but he is surer, more calculating, and more 
vindictive. Magnanimity and generosity being no part 
of his character, he finds few congenial friendships, and is 
therefore usually as miserable as he is mean. 



CHAPTEK IX. 

SOURCE OF THE MORALITY OF ACTIONS. 

Men have been much divided in opinions respecting the 
source of the morality of actions. Some of the Grecian 
philosophers referred it to the emotions^ as urging us to 
extremes ; some of the early Christian fathers referred it 
to the appetites / others, of the transcendental school, have 
referred it wholly to the will / others have considered 
man a mere 7)iachine^ and God himself the only responsi- 
ble agent ; while more modern writers have supposed that 
they have found it in a supposed taste or relish^ or in the 
affections and desires. ^ 

]^ow, according to our analysis, the moral quality of each 
elementary mental act or state, is in the act or state itself^ 
and is known by being compared with its rule. "We de- 
termine the quality of an action just as we do that of any 
thing else, by comparing it with its standard^ and thus 
deciding whether it is what it ought to be. What the 
rules or principles of action are^ we shall show here- 
after. 

* The reader is here referred for the above views, severally, to the writings 
of Plato and Socrates ; of Augustine ; of Kant and his disciples, including 
Cudworth and Coleridge ; of Spinoza, Swedenborg, and others of the pan- 
theistic and the necessitarian school ; of Burton, and other tasters ; and of 
more recent and stiU livinsc authors, who need not be mentioned. 



268 



MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 



But when we would find the sowce of the moral qual- 
ity of actions, we must look to the responsible agent him- 
self. If we ask, what makes an action wrong, the answer 
is, its deviation from the rule. K we ask, who makes an 
action WTong, the answer is, the man who makes the ac- 
tion. It is the man himself who craves, loves, desires, 
wills, and if he does these things wrongly, that is, differ- 
ently from what the just rules prescribe, he is the source 
of the wrong done, and must account for it. 

He must not refer the bad quality of a volition to a 
bad desire which prompts it, and so pronounce the voli- 
tion itself characterless ; nor the bad quality of an affec- 
tion to a morbid appetite, and so divest the affection it- 
self of quality. Each has its own peculiar quality of good 
or evil, and the responsible man must answer for it. 

As the opinions uj)on this subject have now become 
reduced mainly to three, that which locates all moral 
quality in the affections and desires, that which places it 
in the will, and that which makes man merely passive, 
our remarks will have particular reference to these, while 
illustrating the general principle that includes them all. 

'' It hence appears," says Dr. Alexander, in deducing 
an inference from his argument, " that the true and ulti- 
mate source of the morality of actions is not found in the 
will, but in the desires and affections. The simple act of 
volition, namely, a determination to do a certain act, is 
always the same, whatever be the motive. And to ascer- 
tain that an action proceeds from an act of will, only de- 
termines that it is the act of a particular agent, but gives 
us no knowledge respecting the true moral quality of the 
act. This will be found universally true." ^ 

But it would be difficult to prove that if a man has 

* Outlines of Moral Science, p. 139. 



MORAL ACTION. 269 

wrong "desires and affections," his "determination" to 
gratify tliem is not wrong also. The excellent author had 
a specific truth in mind, which he well illustrated ; but 
he does not use the term " will," when speaking of the 
" som'ce of the morality of actions," in the true philoso- 
phical sense. Considered as a mere nervous impulse 
upon the muscles, physically determining them in a par- 
ticular way, itself disconnected from all relation to the 
rational faculties, an act of will is of course destitute of 
moral quality ; as truly so as mere brute volition. 

But this is not what philosophers and theologians mean 
by will^ when treating of moral action. They mean the 
will as related to reason and conscience. When they 
speak of " an act of volition," or " a determination to do 
a certain act," they indicate the volition or determination 
of a man, knowing his duty, to do or not to do it. "When 
a man, in the exercise of his rational powers, determines 
to do the will of God, so far as he knows it, his determi- 
nation is morally right. He then makes a good choice ; 
that is, he puts a good moral quality into that act of will. 
If he chooses to do something else, rather than obey the 
divine will, he makes a lad choice ; that is, he puts a bad 
moral quality into that act of will. In each case, the good 
or the bad quality is in the choice, deterQuination, or voli- 
tion ^ the man himself i^ the source of it; that is, he jput 
it there ; and he must answer for it. This seems, indeed, 
too plain to need to be stated. 

And this is certainly the scriptural view of it. The 
Scriptures call upon men to make a right use of their will, 
and predicate moral quality of its action. Tlie Israelites 
were commanded to choose whom they would serve. To 
choose to do otherwise than serve the Lord, was itself an 
act having decided moral quality, and one for which he 
would not fail to hold them responsible. 



270 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

This is the generic nse of the term, and the same is 
true of all sjpecific acts of will, when the choice or the vo- 
lition lies between doing right or wrong. To say that a 
man chooses wrong, because he has a wrong desire^ is just 
saying that he does two wrong things ; and that he does 
the one because he does the other. He desires wrong and 
he chooses WTong. If it is wrong to have a bad desire, it 
would take more logic than we have ever yet seen, to 
prove that it is not also wrong to determine to gratify it. 



EACH ACT HAS ITS OWN QUALITY. 

We really make no progress, we get no deeper into 
the mind, when searching for the source of a moral qual- 
ity, by referring that of one state or act to another. If a 
person may will wrong because he has a wrong desire, so 
he may desire wrong because he has a wrong will. If our 
desires affect our wills, so our wills affect our desires; 
and a person may be as much in fault for the one as for 
the other. Why does the stubborn child desire to have 
his own way, despite of parental authority ? Because he 
is wilful? Do we not justly ascribe moral quality to his 
wilfulness ? He is punished for that state or act of will^ 
that he may be induced to give it up and cherish a right 
one in its place. 

The truth is, all the powers of the mind, as well as all 
the members of the body, have more or less of good or 
bad effect upon each other, according as they are several- 
ly in a sound or a disordered state ; and, although several 
in elements, they blend together and become one in ac- 
tion. A sunbeam is one in action, as it goes forth from 
its source upon the world ; but as painted upon the arch 
of the rainbow, it is seen in seven distinct colors. These 
colors proceed alike from the same great source, and were 



MORAL ACTION. 271 

the sun an accountable being, he would be responsible 
alike for them all. 

For the sake of analysis, the philosopher applies his 
prism and separates the solar light, as we divide the men- 
tal action, into its several elements, but he never supposes 
that the elementary hues owe their quality to each other. 
Each has its own color ; each comes from the same source ; 
and all blend together in one combined action of the sun, 
as witnessed in a beam of light. 

Such is moral action. Considered as a whole, it is 
never a single element; as our entire examination has 
shown. It is alwaj^s composed of several elements, each 
having its own quality and coming from one and the same 
responsible source. We have thus the psychological 
analysis and the moral synthesis. 

THE DOCTEIUE OF HUMAN PASSIVITY. 

As to the view that considers men ^passive, in the 
sense that virtually absolves them from responsibility, it 
is settled by answering the question, not whether God has 
made them i7idependent of himself, as the advocates of 
the view would have it; for nobody pretends this; but 
whether he has made them moral agents j that is, beings 
endowed with powers which render them justly resjponsi- 
hle for their conduct.* 

The sun is dependent upon its Maker. It is only as 
sustained by him that it shines. Still it was made to en- 
lighten the world ; and it actually does what it was made 

* " He who feels himself responsible for the good and evil which proceed 
from him, or feels a property in them, must have previously forgotten that all 
his life is from God, and have come to find it in himself. This is the reason 
why, as Swedenhorg says, ' he appropriates to himself all evil and falsity, 
which he would never do were his belief formed according to the real truth in 
the case.' " — The Nature of Evil, ly Henky James, p. 144. 



272 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

to do. To say that the sun is nothing and God is all, in 
producing the effect, is just charging God with making 
the sun in yain. This notion is both unphilosophical and 
unscriptural. It is one phase of virtual pantheism. 

The Scriptures instruct us that " God made two great 
lights ; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser 
light to rule the night." The greater light, or source of 
light, is of course the sun ; and it rules the day by shed- 
> ding its light over the earth. God does not shed the light 
himself, by the bare exertion of his power ; he made the 
sun to do it, and the sun, as his instrumentj does it. 

But if he could create and sustain a mass of inanimate 
matter, and empower it to do so important a service,^ 
he could also create and sustain responsible heings^ and 
empower them to do another and far nobler service. Such 
beings he has made men. Having given them a rational 
nature, written his law in their conscience, laid his com- 
mand upon them, made them free to choose the way of 
obedience, and placed the stupendous motives of his moral 
government before them, to induce them to do so, he 
justly holds them accountable for the service for which 
he made them. They ought to render it. It is a reason- 
able, right, glorious service ; as befitting and blessed to 
them, as it is honorable to the Being who made them. 
If the sun by shining reflects the glory of God's creative 
power, the beings made in his likeness ought to reflect 
those brighter splendors of his moral glory, which the 
ibeams of the sun are too feeble to represent. 

* All causality originates and is sustained by free voluntary beings, divine 
or buman ; bence, wben we predicate j?ow<?r, cause, action, of inanimate or irra- 
tional nature, it is only in tbe secondary sense of Tneam or instruments. Tbus 
tbe molecular action and rate of vibrations on wbicb ligbt seems directly to 
depend, are as ineffectual to tbe end as tbe inert mass of tbe sun itself, except- 
ing as tbey are made effectual by tbe divine wilL Tbe agency of tbe divine 
wiU, itself transcendent and known only in and by its effects, is tbe ultimatiraa 
of aU science. 



MORAL ACTION. 273 

But how may tliey do this ? Evidently by being, in 
respect to character, like God ; holy as he is holy, right- 
eous as he is righteous. Such are the angels in heaven ; 
such were our first parents before they fell. This right- 
eousness consists in right affection, desire, choice, emotion^ 
in reference to all beings and all objects in the universe. 
It has its seat in the heart, and is always direct and true 
to its end. It implies the desire of moral excellence, be- 
cause it is excellent; the love of being, because it is 
being ; the choice to do right, because it is right ; and all 
the attending appropriate emotions. 

It is evident that a heart thus disposed, when directed 
towards such a being as God, will supremely love him. 
"When men '' hunger and thirst after righteousness," that 
is, supremely desire righteousness for its own sake, they 
will, of course, supremely delight in God ; for in him is 
the living embodiment of all righteousness. And he who 
thus delights in God, will choose to do his will. Here, 
then, we have the whole heart going forth to God. Desire 
embraces his righteousness; love, his being; will, his 
service ; and, in and through all, the emotions vibrate to 
enrich and enliven the devotion. Such is true religious 
homage. It is precisely this, the supreme homage of the 
soul to God, that man lost by the fall. 



MORAL RENOVATION. 

We thus learn the nature of the change wrought in 
man by the grace of the Gospel. It is not merely a change 
of appetite, or of affection, or of desire, or of volition, so 
that one of these, being itself renovated, may rectify the 
others ; neither is it a change or refining of mere taste, 
nor a quickening or exaltation of emotion. It extends to 
and embraces all these, but is restricted to neither. Deep- 
12* 



274: MOEAI. PHILOSOPHY. 

er, more thorough and generic, it is a change of the mom 
Mfriself. He is ''horn again j^^^ he becomes a "new 
man; "f he is a "new creature.''^ % He is not changed as 
to personal identity^ nor as to natural powers ; he becomes 
a new moral man. And his change is not only moral, but 
generic. He becomes a new man as to his entire heart. 

The new-born infant, however infirm, feeble, or sickly, 
is yet entire. It has all the ^arts of the full-grown and 
perfect man. One member is not born into the world 
alone, that it may beget the other members. Neither is 
one element of the heart brought alone into newness of life, 
that it may impart that life to the other elements. On 
becoming a "new man," the person himself devotes all 
the powers of his being a " living sacrifice to God," as his 
"reasonable service." 

But this may still seem too vague. The reader may 
desire a more definite idea of the precise seat of the change 
in question. I do not know of any one word which better 
indicates the seat of the change than disposition / for this 
refers equally to all the moral powers. When a man is 
not disposed to love, desire, choose, act, as he ought, in 
his relation to God, he is not a religious man. He is in 
that state into which the fall brought mankind. "When 
he becomes through grace disposed to love, desire, choose, 
act, as he ought, in his relation to God, he is a religious 
man. He is in the renewed state into which the Gospel 
brings mankind. The change in question is thus a radical 
and generic change of the moral ma/n. He hiinself be- 
comes rightly disposed in reference to all duty. 

But while renewing grace thus touches and moves him 
at once in all the springs of character, it perfects him in 
none. He neither loves, desires, nor wills, perfectly ; he 

* John iii. 7. t Col. iii. 10. \ 2 Cor. v 17. 



MORAL ACTION. 275 

has no moral element, and performs no duty, in all respects 
right. But to be and to do all that he ought, and thus to 
glorify God in his spirit and in his body, is now his ruling 
principle of heart and life. Hence, if this change is pre- 
dicated only of the will, we must understand the will in 
the largest sense, as involving and ruling the entire heart. 
" Old things are passed away, behold all things are be- 
come new." ITot in some things, but in all things, does 
the new man become subject to the law of the new life. 
Even his most virtuous desires and affections receive a 
new quality of moral excellence, by the divine "image" 
after which he is "renewed." 

The natural sun blends and harmonizes all its elemen 
tary rays in one glorious beam of dazzling brightness, 
because it does as it was made to do ; and so also they 
who, by receiving Christ, receive " power to become sons 
of God," blend and harmonize all their elementary im- 
pulses in a life of moral excellence, because tliey also now 
begin to do as they were made to do. 

The man thus renewed has become right in principle. 
He aims right. His eye is " single." He therefore sees, 
more clearly than he did before his renewal, what is right. 
Darkness may be on each side, but he sees the way of 
duty, right onward before him, as luminous as the path of 
the sun through the heavens. " If thine eye he single^ thy 
whole tody shall he full of lights 

Although the " new man " has not any of his i3owers 
in perfect subjection to the ruling law of his life, yet 
since he is faithfully striving to have them so, he is in 
jprinciple upright. His homage is sincere and entire, 
embracing all his faculties, but it is imperfect. Such has 
been the character of every righteous man that has lived 
upon earth since the fall, with the single exception of 
"the man Christ Jesus." 



276 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

On the other hand, if a man is not under the control- 
ling influence of right principle, whatever may be the 
states or exercises of his several mental elements, he is 
not a morally upright man. He is not merely imperfect^ 
as all are, but he is wanting in the right aim. His eye is 
" evil." He is essentially and radically wrong. 

And for this reason, he is also full of darkness and 
doubt. The way of duty is to him uncertain and cheer- 
less, because his eye is not single. Thick and portentous 
clouds gather along his path, wrapping their gloomy folds 
eternally about his guilty spirit. " If thine eye he evil, 
thy whole dody shall be full of darknessP 

Not the least characteristic qualities of the new man 
and of the old, are the spirit of humility in the one, and 
the spirit of pride in the other. The latter, " through the 
pride of his countenance, will not seek after God ; " the 
former has been led in humbleness and contrition of spirit 
to see him, and in the view, to " abhor " himself, and to 
" repent in dust and ashes." Thus seeing himself in the 
light of the divine character, and realizing his entire de- 
pendence both upon divine power and grace, he is '' clothed 
with humility ; " a garment which, however despised on 
earth, is as much esteemed in heaven as the shining robes 
which angels wear. 

We thus reach the true source of the moral quality of 
all mental states and actions. Of all had moral quality, it 
is found in the man himself, the progenitor of the race, 
and each of his responsible descendants, misusing and 
perverting his powers as a moral agent. Of all good mo- 
ral quality, the source is found, first of all, in God himself, 
through the grace of the Gospel begetting and replenish- 
ing the " new man ; " and, secondarily, in the new man 
himself, using his powers as he was made to do. 

This fundamental distinction in human character is 



MOKAL ACTION. 277 

recognized throughout the Scriptures, in a great variety 
of forms ; it accords with the known laws of mind and of 
moral action, and must always enter into every sound 
and thorough system of moral science. JS^or has he whose 
especial calling it is to endeavor to make mankind what 
they should be, learned well his duty, until he clearly sees 
this distinction, and with skilful hand lays the axe at the 
root of the tree. 



PART IT. 



PRINCIPLES. 
I. NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 



CHAPTEE I. . 

THEORIES OF THE LAW OF EIGHT. 

The word jprinciple has various applications. It is some- 
times used to denote a WLQidsd faculty ; as when we speak 
of the principle of perception, of imagination, of affec- 
tion, &c. It is also used to denote a mental state or con- 
tinuous act, as when we speak of the principle of envy, 
of ambition, of revenge, &c. When a man is influenced 
by one of these motives, we say he is envious, or ambi- 
tious, or revengeful, according to the particular principle 
which rules his conduct. 

In the above senses the term is used subjectively ; that 
is, it indicates something within us, pertaining to the mind 
itself, or to its character. But we are now to use the term 
objectively y that is, as indicating something presented to 



280 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the mind from without^ to be by it adopted as a rule of 
duty. In this sense, the term may indicate either the 
rule itself, or the reason for it. 

Essential ked Positive Principles. — ^The essential prin- 
ciples of morality have th.Q\v perceived reason in themselves, 
1^0 extraneous reason can be given why they are right, 
any more than one can be given for the truth of a mathe- 
matical axiom. The mind has only to perceive the rule 
itself to perceive its rightfulness. The positive principles 
of morality are rules of conduct whose reason, or that 
which makes them right, is 7iot seen in the rules them- 
selves, but exists in some imperceived necessity, or some 
necessity lying without them. 

]N^ATUEAL AND Pevealed Pkinoiples. — A morc impor- 
tant distinction of moral principles is that of natural and 
revealed. The former are taught us by the light of na- 
ture, and are binding on all accountable beings. The 
latter are taught us by a special revelation from God, and 
are made obligatory upon us by his authority. They are 
hence called revealed principles of morality. 

For instance, the rule of tenevolence, is natural. It is 
binding on all accountable beings, and can never be al- 
tered. But the rule for the observance of the Sabbath, is 
revealed. It is binding only upon those to whom the 
revelation is made. 

Hence, as we have natural and revealed religion, so 
we have natural and revealed morality ; and their analogy 
and unity of design in the all-embracing government of 
God, are clearly manifest. Both in acting upon the prin- 
ciple of benevolence, and upon the principle of observing 
the Sabbath, we obey the same government and fulfil the 
same design of God. 

The term morality, in the secular sense, indicates the 
duties of man to man, in distinction from his duties to God. 



NATUKAL PEINCIPLES OF MOEAXITT. 281 

In this view, he is a religious man, who does as he ought 
in his relation to God ; while he is a moral man, who does 
as he ought in his relation to his fellow-beings. 

But in the generic and highest sense, morality respects 
an universal onght. It looks in all directions, and inquires 
for the right in every relation. The central law of moral- 
ity is the law of our entire duty^ both as it respects our- 
selves and our relations to all other beings. Our relation 
to God as well as to men, has its morality. 

The word right^ from the Latin rectus^ and having cor- 
responding terms to denote the same idea in all languages, 
indicates the existence of law, by which all rules and 
actions are to be tried. "When conformed to their laws, 
they are right, just, good; or, in other words, what they 
ought to be. 

Where, then, must we look for the ultimate law of 
right? "What is it that makes rules themselves, and of 
course the actions conformed to them, what they ought to 
be ? What makes the rules just, and the obedient actions 
right ? Is it something within us, around us, from above 
us, or from all these sources ? Is it absolute and eternal, 
or conventional and changing ; or does it partake of both ? 
We have not space to examine in detail the voluminous 
speculations upon this subject, but will condense them 
into a single chapter. They may be comprised in the fol- 
lowing theories : the arbitrary, the greatest happiness, the 
highest good, and the subjective. 

THE AEBITKAEY THEOKY. 

This theory refers all moral right to positive institu- 
tions and enactments. IS'othing is right in itself; it is 
made so by circumstances and the consequent necessary 
laws. The theory assumes that the powers which be, 



282 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

whether divine or human, have the right to control us as 
they please ; it being theirs to command, ours to obey. 

We must not go behind the law to find a reason for 
it ; for none is to be found ; all right and all vtrong 
being made such by the authority of God, or of his duly 
constituted magistrates. Hence this is called the doctrine 
of blind and passive obedience, and is of excellent use in 
all despotic governments. 

This theory is the counterpart of a fanatical error which 
sets all positive enactments at defiance, on the ground 
that the law of conscience is sujficient for every man. It 
was advocated by Hobbe and other loyalists, in opposi- 
tion to the spirit of misrule which prevailed at the time 
of the decapitation of Charles I. 

It more than deifies human governments; for even 
God himself does not govern upon arbitrary principles. 
He calls upon us to consider the reasonableness of his re- 
quirements, and to judge if his ways are equal. 

This theory arose from mistaking the ground and the 
limits of positive enactments. These do not supersede the 
essential right ; they are founded upon it, and are intend- 
ed to furnish and to sanction its details. 

For instance, benevolence is right, irrespective of all 
enactment. God's requiring it does not make it right ; 
he requires it because it is right. Hence his law requir- 
ing us to love is not an arbitrary enactment, but is essen- 
tially right. It would be just as right as it now is, if it 
came from any other source. On the other hand, we can- 
not conceive of a law, by whomsoever enacted, that could 
make it right for us to be malicious. 

" Our notions of right and wrong are so far from owing 
their authority to positive institutions, that they aflford us 
the chief standard to which we appeal in comparing difi<er- 
ent positive institutions with each other. Were it not for 



NATUEAL PEINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 283 

this test, how could we pronounce one code to be more 
humane, more liberal, or more equitable than another? 
Or how could we feel that, in our municipal regulations, 
some are consonant and others repugnant to the princi- 
ples of justice? " * 

THE GREATEST HAPPINESS THEORY. 

Some have supposed that nothing is right in itself, but 
that whatever is right, is so, because it promotes the high- 
est welfare. Yirtue is only a means to an end. Our way 
to learn the divine will respecting an action, is to in- 
quire whether it tends to promote the general happi- 
ness. 

" We conclude," says Dr. Paley, " that God wills and 
wishes the happiness of his creatures. And this conclu- 
sion being once established, we are at liberty to go on 
with the rule built upon it, namely, that the method of 
coming at the will of God concerning any action, by the 
light of nature, is, to inquire into the tendency of that ac- 
tion to promote or diminish the general happiness." 

" So, then, actions are to be estimated by their ten- 
dency. It is the utility of any moral rule alone, which 
constitutes the obligation of it. Whatever is expedient 
is right. But then it must be expedient on the whole, 
at the long run, in all its effects, collateral and remote, 
as well as in those which are immediate and direct; 
as it is obvious, that, in computing consequences, it 
makes no difference in what way or at what distance 
they ensue." 

In this view, the only difference between an act of 
prudence and an act of moral and religious duty is this, 
" that in the one case we consider what we shall gain or 

* Stewart, p. 183. 



284 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

lose in the present world ; and in tlie other case, we con- 
sider also what we shall gain or lose in the world to 
come." * 

Morality, tiien, is prudence embracing onr temporal 
welfare; religion is prndence projected into eternity. 

To admit " that God wills and wishes the happiness of 
his creatures," is only admitting that he is a benevolent 
being ; but it does not follow that there is no such thing 
as moral virtue, which is a good in itself, and which a 
wise and righteous benevolence would not fail to regard. 

But it is said that virtue " is not an ultimate good," 
that it is good only as a means to the end, happiness. To 
this I reply, that, so far as we know, all things and events 
in the phenomenal universe are followed by others, to which 
they sustain some relation of cause or means, and thus the 
aifairs of the universe move on in endless succession. It 
is the glory of God to make all present things and events 
subservient to others, and these again to others ; thus for 
ever augmenting the riches of the universe, by allowing 
nothing to be nnproductive. 

But we may in this relation speak of a chief end more 
understandingly ; and to that end may be attached various 
degrees of importance. One man's chief end in going a 
journey may be healthy another's j??e<^<§'wr^. There may be 
a question as to which is the most valued, but the same 
man may desire and seek each, both as a good in itself 
and as a means to the other. 

It is manifest that God does make our happiness, as 
well as our suffering, a means of promoting our moral 
welfare ; and also that he makes our morality a means of 
happiness. He must, therefore, value both character and 
happiness, each for itself and for the good of which it is the 
means ; whilst, as a benevolent being, he cannot be sup- 

* Paley's Moral Phil., B. H. Ch. 3. 



NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 285 

posed to put any value whatever upon suffering, which 
is always in itself an evil, exoept as it is a means to some 
good end. 

Hence right character and happiness must ever coin- 
cide. The truly upright man cannot fail to be on the 
way to the highest happiness. But while God always 
sees the relation of the one to the other, we cannot ; and 
hence, if we must decide "upon the moral quality of an act 
only by its perceived tendency to happiness, we should 
often be in a fearful dilemma. There would be a sad de- 
fect in the system of moral government. 

But no such defect exists ; we are in no such dilemma. 
Uprightness is uprightness ; it is right in itself, and may 
often be distinctly known as such, irrespective of all conse- 
quences. Neither is a right act a bargain for happiness ; it 
is prompted by a supreme and direct regard to what is in- 
trinsically good. 

At the same time, it is impossible for us not to desire 
happiness ; for this desire, as we have seen, is a part of 
our natm^e. If, therefore, while conscience impels us to 
the right, we were not at tlie same time assured that up- 
rightness tends to happiness, there would be a strange in- 
congruity in our constitution. The law of a pure instinct 
and the law of a good conscience would be at war with 
each other. But no such incongruity exists. The satis- 
faction imparted by conscience in the performance of 
duty, even at the greatest sacrifice, is itself an earnest of 
future good, and our assurance that the path of duty 
leads to happiness. 

"Since happiness is necessarily the supreme object of 
our desires," says Whewell, " and duty the supreme rule 
of our actions, there can be no harmony in our being, ex- 
cept our happiness coincide with our duty. That which 
we contemplate as the ultimate and universal object of 



286 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

desire, must be identical with that which we contemplate 
as the ultimate and supreme guide of our intentions. As 
moral beings, our happiness must be found in our moral 
progress, and in consequence of our moral progress. "We 
must be happy by being virtuous." * 

While the cardinal virtues of benevolence, justice, 
gratitude, &c., may be known as morally excellent, irre- 
spective of consequences, there are others, as we shall 
hereafter see, whose character we learn either by their 
perceived tendencies, or by the positive institutions and 
teachings of Christianity. 

THE HIGHEST GOOD THEORY. 

The advocates of this theory maintain that the highest 
good is the ultimate rule of right. All else must be made 
subservient to this. They have only to ascertain what 
the highest good is. "With this view they institute a com- 
parison between the relative claims of our lower and our 
higher faculties. 

Our attention is first directed to the demands of a;ppe- 
tite. These must be regarded ; and the means of their 
gratification is a good in relation to this particular interest. 

From this inferior good we ascend to that of rational 
art, of sentiment and taste. Here is no craving of appetite 
to be satiated, but the feelings rest with complacent de- 
light in the contemplation of their object. This is an in- 
trinsic and dignified good. 

We next consider the cultivation of science. Here the 
human intellect comes to commune with the divine, in 
apprehending the laws of nature, and conversing with 
those primordial ideas which guided the great Architect 
in constructing the universe. This, again, is a very noblo 
and exalted good. 

* WheweU's Elements, Vol. T. p. 386. 



NATURAL PEINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 28T 

But over and above these is still another, the highest 
good of all; it is worthiness of spiritual approbation. 
Here, then, is found the ultimate rule of right ; the law 
supreme, at whose bidding all other demands must yield. 
" We may call this the imperative of reason, the constraint 
of conscience, or the voice of God within him ; but by 
whatever term expressed, the real meaning will be, that 
every man has consciously the bond upon him to do that^ 
and that only^ which is due to his spiritual exGeUencyP — 
" To be thus worthy of spiritual approbation is the end of 
all ends."* 

This beautiful theory assigns the true relative impor- 
tance to the several demands of our lower and higher 
faculties, enthroning the enlightened conscience in su- 
preme authority over them all. But whether the desire 
of simplification, so characteristic of original, theorizing 
thinkers, may not have had undue influence in framing it, 
is perhaps a fair question. 

That every man is bound "to do that, and that only, 
which is due to his spiritual excellency," is a first maxim 
in morals. But whether we are always to put our minds 
in the reflex position to find our duty, and to act vnth a 
mew to "worthiness of spiritual approbation," as " the end 
of all ends," may be reasonably doubted. In our noblest 
and best acts, and especially in our loftiest religious hom- 
age, we are almost wholly objective. We lose sight of 
ourselves, and of regard to our personal excellency and 
worthiness of approbation. Our thoughts and desires are 
outward and right onward to their object, whether it be 
the welfare of a fellow-being, or the glory of God. That 
we could not rightfully seek the welfare of men or the 
glory of God, in a way inconsistent with our spiritual ex 

* Hickok's Moral Science, pp. 48, 49. 



288 MORAL PmLOSOPHY. 

cellency, or even without promoting it, is very certain. 
We glorify God when we reflect his character, and we 
reflect his character by being and doing good, like him. 
The difficulty with this theory is the one usually inherent 
in attempts at great simplification. Such attempts are 
wont to leave some facts unprovided for. 

To make my meaning clear, let us suppose a man to 
be a believer in God, and in the Bible as his revelation to 
us. What ought that man to regard as " the end of all 
ends," or, in other words, the ultimate ohject of his being? 
Answer. To glorify God and enjoy him for ever. By 
what means can he do this ? Answer. By being, in his 
humble sphere and capacity, like God in character. By 
what rules can he become so ? Answer. By those fur- 
nished in the Bible. Here we have three distinct things, 
the man's object^ his means to it, and his guide, 

I have said above, with the Assembly's Catechism, 
that man's chief end is to glorify God oMd enjoy him for 
ever, because the one implies the other. It is impossible 
to be lilte God in character, without enjoying him ; and it 
is impossible to enjoy him, without being like him. When, 
therefore, we seek to glorify God as our ultimate moral 
end, by becoming in character like him, we at the same 
time act in accordance with our highest rational instinct^ 
which is an aspiration or desire to be for ever happy. It 
has been previously shown that we ought not to attempt 
to extinguish or repress our natural desires, but to direct 
them in obedience to moral law. Tliere is no moral ex- 
cellence in merely seeking our happiness, but there is 
moral excellence in doing that, namely, glorifying God, 
in the doing of which our haj)piness is involved. Hence, 
our true end of all ends, morally^ is the glory of God ; 
whilst our end of all ends, instinctively^ is our highest 
happiness ; and, as our moral and instinctive being was 



NATTEAL PEINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 289 

never designed to be separated, so our duty and haj[>jpiness 
must he eternally united. 

But if man ignores his relation to God, the case is ma- 
teriallj altered. Two of the above three things are then 
to him wanting, namely, his objective object^ which is the 
glory of God, and his objective guide, which is the Bible. 
There remains to him only one of the three things, namely, 
his personal worthiness, which becomes both his object 
and guide. All is merged into this. It follows, in such 
a case, that "in personal worthiness, as the end of all 
action, every claim centres; and in the attainment and 
preservation of this^ all imperatives are satisfied ; " also, 
that the man "is a law to himself, and has both the 
judge and executioner within him and inseparable from 
him."* 

But we have seen that pure morality embraces all 
intrinsic obligations. If, then, man is aware of the exist- 
ence of God as revealed in the Bible, he is morally bound 
to render to him supreme homage. His obligations to 
God involve as ^re morality, as his obligations to himself 
and to his fellow-beings do. He ought to make the glory 
of God his supreme object, even if no positive authority 
enjoined it. The bond precedes the command. The 
command of God does not malce it right ; he commands it 
because it is right. Morality alone as much binds him to 
glorify God in his spirit and in his body which are his, as 
it does to pay his just debts to his neighbor. This prior 
obligation Christianity assumes. It is precisely here that 
morality and religion nnite and become one. Morality 
according with religion, and religion heightening and in- 
tensifying morality, they thus present man's entire lesson 
of obligation, both as a moral and religious being. 

* Hickok's Moral Science, pp. 48, 65. 
13 



290 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

In this view, the following position seems to me to be 
wrong end first. " The existence of God being appre- 
hended," &c., "we need only to know onr spiritual com- 
munication with him, and for our own worthiness' sake 
there immediately arises the consciousness of moral obli- 
gation."* Instead of our obligation's arising "for our 
own worthiness' sake," we are under prior obligation of 
spiritual worthiness for the sake of glorifying God. In- 
stead of making our own worthiness the end of the means^ 
we should make it the means of the end. 

It is with much self-distrust that I dissent, in any par- 
ticular, from the views of so able an author as the one 
above cited. But it seems to me that we are driven tc 
this dilemma, and must hang upon one or the other of its 
horns. A man may make either the glory of God, or self- 
worthiness, his final object, but he cannot do hoth. Khis 
ultimate object is the former, it is not the latter ; and if it 
is the latter, it is not the former. The one must be means 
to the other. His aim must be ultimately God-wise, or 
self-wise. 

If it be said that to inculcate the glory of God as man's 
object, is to travel out of our sphere as mere philosophers, 
and to teach religion instead of pure morality, I must 
again say, that what we here teach is morality and reli- 
gion too ; otherwise, pure morality, as an intrinsic obliga- 
tion, and pm-e religion, as positively enjoined, are not only 
in this respect distinct^ but they are opj[>osed to each other. 

THE SUBJECTIVE THEOEY. 

The most objectionable form of this theory was advo- 
cated by some of the Grecian sophists, and subsequently 
by Hume and other skeptical writers. It maintains that 

* Hickok's Moral Science, p. 147. 



NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 291 

all virtue and all vice are such, only as tliej are so con- 
ceived and regarded by the human mind. 

This is the same notion in respect to moral science 
with that in respect to natural science, which denies the 
existence of objective beauty or deformity in material 
objects. In this view a Yenus is in herself no more beau- 
tiful than a porcupine. We have a certain impression in 
regard to the one which we have not in regard to the 
other, and this constitutes the whole of beauty. In like 
manner this theory maintains, that there is no objective 
difference between what we call a good and a bad action; 
all the difference being in our minds. 

" The words right and wrong, signify nothing in the 
objects themselves to which they are applied, any more than 
the words sweet and hitter, pleasant 2.tA painful, but only 
certain effects in the mind of the spectator. Protagoras 
and his followers extended it to all truths, physical as well 
as moral, and maintained that every thing was relative to 
perception. The following maxims in particular have a 
wonderful coincidence with Hume's philosophy. "JS'o- 
thing is true or false, any more than sweet or sour, in 
itself, but relatively to the perceiving mind." " Man is 
the measure of all things, and every thing is that, and no 
other, which to every one it seems to be, so that there can 
be nothing true, nothing existent, distinct from the mind's 
own perceptions." * 

"Were I not afraid of appearing too philosophical," 
continues Stewart, in animadverting upon this theory, " I 
should remind my reader of the famous doctrine supposed 
to be fully proved in modern times, that tastes and colors 
and all other sensible qualities lie not in bodies, but 
merely in the senses. The same is the case with beauty 
and deformity, virtue and vice." f 

* Hume's Essay, Part I. f Stewart, p. 193. 



292 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

This scheme mistakes the true ftmction of our rational 
powers. They are not literally to he our rule of duty, but 
to enable us to learn it. When we speak understandingly 
of " the law of conscience," we mean the law which con- 
science approves and enforces. But this scheme yirtually 
leaves every man to do what is right in his own eyes, 
regardless of the teachings and admonitions of both God 
and man. Man is not, in this view, a learner, but is him- 
self lawgiver and judge. 

It is a curious illustration of the remark that extremes 
sometimes meet, to find the sensational Hume, on the one 
hand, uniting with the advocate of the infallible moral 
sense, or inward light ; on the other, in dispensing with 
the necessity of a revelation from God. 

A less objectionable view, is that maintained by Jacobi 
and other German philosophers, and also by Cudworth, 
and, with some modifications, by Coleridge and his fol- 
lowers. In this view, right and wrong are objective enti- 
ties, but they are directly apprehended by the eye of 
reason as abstract truths. The general doctrine of an 
immediate abstract intuition of first truths, seems also to 
have been maintained by Kant, and subsequently to have 
been by him relinquished or modified. For this, Jacobi 
charges him with inconsistency. " The Critical philoso- 
phy," he says, " first out of love to science, theoretically 
subverts metaphysic ; then, when all is about to sink into 
the yawning abyss of an absolute subjectivity, it again, 
out of love to metaphysic, subverts science." ^ 

The advocates of this view hold, that from the bright 
domain of the pure reason, the senses, and all knowledge 
received by them, stand apart from us, while the clear 

* Works, voL II., p. 44. See also Hamilton's Phil, of Common Sense, 
p. 136. 



NATUKAL PEINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 293 

eye of intuition directly perceives the eternal principles 
of right. Their rightfulness is not seen in the concrete, 
and depends upon no relations and contingencies ; it is 
seen of itself, in pure abstraction, as an essential and abso- 
lute entity. The ought is thus safely lodged, a^riori^ in 
the reason of every individual. 

Objections to this theory will appear in the subsequent 
chapter, in which we shall endeavor to view the whole 
subject in as clear a light as possible, regardless of all 
theories, and appealing directly to human consciousness. 



CHAPTEK n. 



FIRST PKINCIPLES 



We have seen that the desire to simplify has induced 
philosophers to attempt to resolve all the principles of 
morality into one simple law of right. But when that law 
is found, or supposed to be found, it is proved to be made 
up of several elements. Thus the law of love^ which is 
all-embracing, is not simple, but complex. 

The same attempts at simplification have been made 
in natural science. Men have endeavored to refer all the 
phenomena of nature to one law ; but their law proves to 
be a compound of several. 

The truth is, the Creator seems to have had more than 
one idea^ in both the natural and the moral creation ; and 
while the ideas in each are in perfect harmony, we vainly 
attempt, in either case, to resolve them into a simple 
unity. 

Still all the works of God are characterized by great 
and even amazing simplicity, when we contemplate their 
extent ; and the wonder is, not that the original ideas in 
reference to which they are constituted are so many, but 
that they are so few. It is our present object to ascertain 



NATURAL PKINCIPLES OF MOEALITY. 295 

these few elementary ideas, or first principles, as they are 
found in the moral world. To make my view the clearer, 
as well as to confirm it by analogy, let ns briefly refer to 
other departments of science. 

The science of mathematics has its first principles, and 
erects its entire superstructure upon them. They are 
familiar to all educated minds. The axioms of geometry 
are not made what they are by any ordinance, either hu- 
man or divine ; they are the exponents of truths that are 
essential and everlasting. 

The science of nature has also its first principles. Un- 
til the student of nature begins to apprehend them, he 
makes no scientific progress. He may observe individual 
facts, but he cannot interpret them. Like the printer's 
types when thrown into pi, they lie in confusion around 
him, until he sees the principles which bring order out of 
chaos. 

It is evident that the universe was constructed, so to 
speak, upon scientific principles; for it is by the use of 
mathematical truths and calculations that we are enabled 
to study it, and to calculate its movements. Did matter 
attract and repel at random, or the heavenly bodies move 
irrespective of certain first principles, there could be no 
science of nature. 

So also the science of morals has its first principles. 
As in the previous sciences, so in this also, they are the 
product of no creative power. They are absolute and 
essential. The mental states and exercises indicated by 
the terms benevolence, gratitude, justice, &c., are con- 
formity to principles absolutely right. ISTothing can make 
them otherwise. The moral philosopher must apprehend 
these principles, and build his science upon them. 



296 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 



HOW FIRST PEINCIPLES ARE KNOWN. 

All sciences, then, have their first principles, to which 
the human mind is constitutionally adapted. Thus the 
whole system of the universe, both natural and moral, was 
made to be a study for rational minds ; and tie minds are 
constituted with powers precisely adapted to the study, 
both in the principles and the systematic completion of 
every science."^ The child has seen that the whole of an 
apple, or of any thing else, is more than half of it ; that 

* The simple fact of the analogy of the subject and object, that is, of the 
mind of man and the universe without him, is all that is here asserted. At- 
tempting t9 go heyond the fact, as known only so far as it is afiirmed by the 
actual study of nature, has led to many ingenious and brilliant a prion specu- 
lations, and sometimes to those which are absurd and mischievous. They 
have even subverted the first truths of science itself, denied the testimony of 
consciousness, annihilated the objective universe, and resolved all into a soli- 
tary subjectivity. 

" Some philosophers (as Anaxagoras, Heraclitus, Alcmseon,) maintained 
that knowledge implied oven a cwitrariety of subject and object. But since the 
time of Empedocles, no opinion has been more universally admitted, than that 
the relation of hnowledge inferred the analogy of existence. This analogy may 
be supposed in two potencies. What knows and what is known, are either, 
1st, similar, or, 2d, the same : and if the general principle be true, the latter is 
the more philosophical. This principle it was, which immediately determined 
the whole doctrine of a representative perception. Its lower potence is seen 
in the intentional species of the schools, and in the ideas of Malebranche and 
Berkeley ; its higher, in the gnostic reasons of the Platonists, in the pre-exist- 
ing species of Avicenna and the Arabians, in the ideas of Descai-tes and Leib- 
nitz, in the ^enomena of Kant, and in the external states of Dr. Brown. It 
mediately determines the hierarchical gradation of faculties or so\ds of the Aristo- 
telians ; the Vehicular medm of the Platonists ; the theories of a commm intellect 
of Alexander, Themistius, Averroes, Cajetanus, and Zabarella ; the vision in the 
Deity of Malebranche ; and the Cartesian and Leibnitzian doctrines of assistance 
and predetermined harmony. To no other origin is to be ascribed the refusal of 
the fact of consciousness in its primitive duality ; and the unitarian systems of 
identity, m,aferialism, idealism, are the result." — Hamilton's Phil, of Perception, 
p. 189. 



NATURAL PKINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 297 

the two halves put together are equal to the whole ; that 
halves of the same or equal things are equal to each other ; 
that what is round cannot coincide with what is square, 
and so on. Thus, long before he begins to study mathe- 
matics as a science^ he comes into possession of its primary 
truths. 

You have then only to embody these truths in distinct 
statements, or axioms, and his mind at once admits them. 
He now, perceives them, not merely in the individual facts 
which he has witnessed, but as indicating absolute and 
imiversal truths. He thus comes to a clear and unques- 
tioning recognition of those abstract principles of mathe- 
matics, which are equally applicable in all places and for 
ever. 

We proceed to natural science. It was by the obser- 
vation of individual facts^ that its principles became 
known. It was by observing the descent of an apple from 
the tree to the ground, by measuring the accelerated speed 
of a falling body, by observing and computing the move- 
ments of a revolving sphere, and so on, that those univer- 
sal truths were apprehended upon which the science of 
nature rests. The universality of these truths is learned 
by induction, but, like the principles of mathematics, they 
come of the observation of facts. They are all first learned 
in the concrete. 

We advance next to moral science. The child has no 
intuition of the abstract principles of right and wrong, 
until he witnesses an act of kindness, or of fidelity, or of 
gratitude ; he then instantly perceives and feels that what 
he witnesses is a good act. He witnesses an act of un- 
kindness, of treachery, of ingratitude ; he instantly per- 
ceives and feels that what he witnesses is. a had act. He 
does not need to stop and reason upon these acts, or to sur- 
vey their consequences, before he decides upon them ; he 
13* 



298 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

knows at once, that the former are right and the latter 
wrong. Here, then, is an intuitive perception and a feel- 
ing of conscience, bj which a rational moral judgment is 
passed upon those acts.* 

]^or is it needful that these acts be directed towards 
the child himself. This might heighten his emotions and 
thus intensify his moral judgment, but it w^ould not change 
its nature. 

In this way, long before the child comes to study moral 
science, he becomes possessed of its elements. What then 
remains to be done ? He has only to exercise that power 
of generalization, with which rational beings are endowed, 
and, in the right and the wrong of the particular acts 
which he has witnessed, he recognizes the jprinciples, 
which stamp the same character upon all similar acts. 

Consequently, when, in after life, he enters upon the 
study of moral science, he only needs to have its first 
principles clearly stated to him, and he as readily assents 
to them as to the axioms of geometry. Proof is no more 
required in the one case than in the other. To go behind 



* This, it seems to me, is all that Descartes and other intelligent advocates 
of innate ideas could have reallj intended. The first principles of every science 
are innate, or native to the mind, only in the sense that such is its nature, that 
it directly intuits them, a priori, as necessary and absolute truths, independently 
of the affirmations of sense, experience, or any discursive proof. 

The confusion and misapprehension here hetween authors seem to arise, * 
mostly, from their not distinguishing between the perception and the proof of 
the principles in question. The principles are first perceived in the concrete ; 
and therefore we are dependent upon the senses for being put in relation to 
them ; but their proof is in themselves, being intuitively perceived by the mind 
the moment it apprehends them. These principles are the elements of all our 
systematic knowledge, in every department of science. 

" Such elements, however, are obtained only by a process of sundering and 
abstraction. In actual or concrete thinking, there is given nothing pure ; the 
native and foreign, the a priori and a posteriori, are there presented in mutual 
fusion." — SamUton's Phil. Com. Sense. 



NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 299 

the simple statement of the principles, with a view to 
establishing their truth, is just throwing arguments away 
in an attempt to prove what is proved already. 

To speculate upon their beauty, their fitness, their util- 
ity, their relation to the highest happiness or the highest 
good, or their innate existence in the mind, in order to 
prove their truth and importance, is like lighting candles 
at blazing noon to help the sun. The mind was made for 
them. It was made to perceive, feel, hnow them, with a 
clearness and certainty that put all argument at defiance, 
and laugh all speculations to scorn. 

If there is any thing that man knows beyond all possi- 
ble question, it is, that benevolence is good and malice 
evil, that justice and gratitude are right, and ingratitude 
and injustice wrong, and other such moral truths ; and lie 
knows them to be universally and unalterably so. The 
place for the man who does not know this is not in the 
lecture-room, nor in rational society, but in the mad-house. 



PRINCIPLES AND MORAL VIRTUES. 

Principles, then, considered as reasons and rules of 
conduct, are objective ; moral virtues are subjective. We 
perceive and adopt principles ; we approve and practise 
yirtues. First principles in morals are universal rules of 
conduct, having their reason or authority in themselves ; 
actions conformed to them are cardinal virtues. The 
principles are essentially and perfectly reasonable and 
just, under all possible circumstances ; actions are more 
or less what they should be, according to their degree of 
conformity with the principles. 

Moral virtues are related to their objective principles, 
as the diagrams upon the blackboard are to the mathe- 
matical principles which they represent. The diagrams 



300 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

are made by man ; tlie principles are eternal. The lines, 
circles, angles, are themselves imperfect ; but they repre- 
sent perfect ideas. All human virtues are imperfect ; the 
principles of morality are perfect. All human virtues 
have degrees ; the principles of morality have no degrees. 
The ultimate principles of moral right, are the primary 
and essential elements of God's comprehensive and ever- 
lasting law. 

Some men have been able to carry on extensive mathe- 
matical calculations, without the aid of figures and dia- 
grams. From this it has been inferred, that the mind 
apprehends its first truths in the abstract. Such were the 
views of Jacobi, Cudworth, Coleridge, and other tran- 
scendentalists. But the men supposed, did not carry on 
the calculations in question, until they had learned the 
first principles in the concrete. 

Every child takes his first lesson in morals, when he 
intelligently sees the first right or wrong action / but he 
does not study morality as a science^ until he begins to 
make a systematic and universal application of its prin- 
ciples. 

GROUNDS IN WHICH PEINCIPLES ARE APPREHENDED. 

Let us begin with the lower demands of our nature, 
the cravings of wpjpetite. These demands must be met in 
some way, and there is a right way and a wrong one, 
between which we must choose. 

"We first notice the appetite for food and drink. Every 
person readily sees that its leading object is his healthful 
nourishment.- Whatever pleasure there may be in its 
gratification,' is obviously designed to be subservient to 
this object. To sacrifice this object to a mere lust of 
pleasure, is morally wrong ; but to rule the appetite with 
faithful reference to the end for which it was given, is 



NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 301 

morally right. Man Icnows this, as well as he knows the 
truth of an axiom. He thns knows the principle by which 
he ought to govern this appetite. Obedience to it is the 
virtue of Temperance. 

Men may differ respecting the kind, quality, and amount 
of nourishment best for them. These things are not 
learned by intuitive perception ; they depend upon cir- 
cumstances, and must be learned by experience. But this 
does not affect the principle, nor the obligation to obey it. 

Instance next the appetite of the sex. This appetite 
was manifestly designed to be ever subordinate to the 
healthful continuance and welfare of the race. And the 
more effectually to guard this end, the Creator has im- 
planted a sort of higher iostinct, a feeling of modesty ^ 
which all have by nature, and which only vicious influ- 
ences can resist. Here again the right principle is ob- 
vious. Obedience to it is the virtue of Chastity. 

We come next to the feelings of affection, desire, and 
emotion. The demands of these are scarcely less imperi- 
ous than those of appetite. "We were made to love and 
to desire^ as truly as to eat and drink. The former is as 
needful to the soul as the latter is to the body. And all 
may see that we ought to control our affections and desires, 
as well as our appetites. Also the emotions attending 
them, however valuable when in due subjection, become 
terribly disastrous when unrestrained. All men know 
that it is wrong to allow their passions to master them. 

ISTow we have seen that there are two opposite kinds 
of moral affection, that of love, kindness, good will to all 
men, and that of hatred, selfishness, envy. Every man 
knows the former to be right, and the latter to be wrong. 
He needs no argument to prove it ; the truth flashes upon 
his mind by intuition, like the truth of an axiom. He 
has only to think upon them, and the knowledge is his ; 



302 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the rule of duty is present to his mind. He is thus fur- 
nished with \hQ principle. Obedience to it is the virtue 
of Benevolence. This virtue is in the Scriptures termed 
love and charity. These terms are there used in the most 
comprehensive sense, including our obligations to God as 
well as man. 

Every man sees that others have claims to be regard- 
ed as well as he. Even the child has his own things. 
What these are, whether they are his character, his person, 
his possessions, or how he came by them, is not material. 
It is enough that they are his. The fact that they are his, 
gives him a right to them which no other person has. 

He perceives that others, too, have their own things ; 
and that for the same reason why he has a right to his^ 
they have a right to theirs. Along with this j)erception, 
he has also a feeling., that he ought to regard the rights of 
others as well as his own. Such is the principle which 
his conscience enjoins. Obedience to it is the virtue of 
justice. 

He listens at one time to what he knows to be inten- 
tional truth ; at another to what he knows to be inten- 
tional falsehood. He perceives the difference between 
them, and his conscience admonishes him that the former 
is right and the latter wrong. He does not decide upon 
the rightfulness of truth from its perceived utility ; for 
long before he reflects upon its advantages to society, and 
perhaps even while perceiving some immediate personal 
advantage from it, his conscience decides that it is right 
in itself Thus conscience furnishes him with the princi- 
ple of duty. Obedience to it is the virtue of Veracity. 

He becomes early acquainted with promises. He 
gives and receives them. The parent makes promises to 
his child ; the child makes them to the parent. They are 
often exchanged between the child and his companions. 



NATUEAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 303 

He understands their meaning, and he knows that he 
ought to keep them. Questions as to how they may be 
affected by circumstances, as in case of being extorted by 
force, do not affect the obligation to be faithful to every 
free and reasonable promise. Conscience informs him 
that he ought to do as he has agreed to do. Such is the 
principle. Obedience to it is the virtue of Faithfulness. 

Every man witnesses the reception of favors. Chil- 
dren receive support from their parents, and instruction 
from their teachers. In sickness and affliction, we receive 
the sympathy and attentions of our friends. In want and 
in danger we have been relieved by those upon whom we 
had no legal claim. All men know that such favors im- 
pose obligation. It may not be in our power to return 
favor for favor ; but we can exercise and manifest an ap- 
propriate feeling. This we are bound to do. Such is the 
principle of obligation universally admitted. Obedience 
to it is the virtue of Gratitude. 

He who practises all the above virtues, escapes the 
censure of the civil law, and passes for a good moral man. 
He fulfils his duties to himself and to his fellow- men, as 
related to this world. But the question of his relation to 
the Being who made him, and to another world, is also to 
be considered. He has also some higher endowments to 
be regarded, for the use of which he is responsible. 

He has a class of feelings which realize their end in 
the pleasing contemplation of their objects. These feel- 
ings are termed sentiment. In fulfilling their demands, 
he both seeks for the pleasing objects actually existing in 
nature, and also forms ideal ones in his mind. He also 
seeks to embody his ideal forms in works of art; and 
both by copying nature, and by furnishing the additional 
adornments of genius and fancy, to enhance the means of 
enjoyment. 



304 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Hence painting, sculpture, architecture, ornamental 
gardening; also the embellishments of furniture, dress, 
equipage ; all those pleasing arts which give elegance 
to civilized life. Such works are related to the sentiment 
of taste / and are as truly adapted to meet a demand of our 
rational nature, as food and drink are to meet a demand 
of the body, or as the moral affections are to meet a de- 
mand o:^oiir social nature. 

This sentiment, duly exercised, tends to elevate man 
above the gross pleasures of the mere animal. Not only 
in the drawing-room, the picture-gallery, the garden, but 
even at the festive board, it subjects the grossness of mere 
sensual indulgence to the more delicate and refined ban- 
quet of the soul. But the fact that it elevates and refines, 
does not exonerate it from the necessity of being subject 
to moral rule. Rightly ruled, it becomes auxiliary to the 
highest virtues of morality and religion ; not thus ruled, 
it becomes as subservient to vice as any other feeling. 
The fine arts, refining and ennobling as they are, have 
yet often been prostituted to base purposes. 

We have also the thirst for hnowledge to be regarded. 
It is well to gratify this craving. He is scarcely worthy 
to be called man, who never aspires after knowledge for 
its own sake. To feel the conscious ability to master dif- 
ficulties in the pursuits of literature and science, to realize 
the satisfaction of comprehending the sublime laws of na- 
ture, and the dignity of holding communion with those 
eternal truths to which they relate, is a privilege and an 
honor worthy of a rational mind. 

But is this the end of intellectual pursuits ? Is this all 
that intellect was given us for ? Was man made intellec- 
tual only to please himself in gratifying his thirst for 
knowledge ? ]^o more than he was made animal, only to 
please himself in gratifying the desires of appetite. The 



NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 305 

former gratification may be more dignified than the latter, 
but it may be also none the freer from the vice of selfish- 
ness. Every man knows this, or may know it. He knows 
that his intellect was given, to teach him what he is to 
believe and to do, as an accountable being; to solve the 
problem of his obligations and destinies. He may per- 
vert and abuse the gift of intellect, as truly as any other. 
He is therefore bound by his conscience to be ever search- 
ing after truth, to be open to conviction, and to be faith- 
ful in the performance of every known duty. 

All of the above virtues are binding upon the atheist^ 
as well as upon the theist. The question now is. Is the 
atheist bound to believe in the existence of God, and to 
do him homage ? He may have no intuitive perception 
of the divine existence. But God has revealed himself 
so clearly in his works, that man has only to contemplate 
them, with a mind open to conviction^ to see the evidence 
of " his eternal power and Godhead ;" so that he is ''with- 
out excuse " for not admitting his existence. Moreover, 
the feeling of moral obligation^ and the conscious reaching 
of the soul after its object, forbids all repose until that 
object is recognized and admitted. Thus the evidence 
furnished in the constitution of the soul itself, unites with 
that furnished by objective nature, to prove that there is 
and must be a God of infinite natural and moral perfec- 
tions. 

Hence, if men are " without God in the world," it is 
because '' they do not liJce to retain him in their knowledge." 
Although " the fool hath said in his heart, ~Eo God," his 
conscience, enlightened by a single flash from the glorious 
face of creation, declares loudly against him. When he 
thus perceives the evidence of the existence and perfec- 
tions of God, his conscience exalts and intensifies this per- 
ception, and unfailingly admonishes him to render to that 



806 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

glorious and Supreme Being his sacred and supreme 
homage. 

The evidence for the divine existence being so obvious, 
and so closely related to the first acts of conscience, all 
pagan nations have, in fact, ideas of God ; and, the more 
virtuous the people are, the nearer they approach to just 
views of his character. However men may differ in opin- 
ions respecting the mode of his existence, or the form of 
service most acceptable to him, they cannot innocently 
fail to know, that they ought to render to him their su- 
preme homage ; that they are bound to rule not only their 
appetites and affections, but all their tastes, sentiments, 
and intellectual aspirations, with a supreme regard to his 
pleasure. Such is the jjyrincijple enjoined by conscience ; 
obedience to it is Religion. This is natural religion, or 
the religion oijoure morality. 

We thus see that piety to God is both a moral and a 
religious duty. To withhold from him our homage is, in 
the mere light of nature, a moral wrong, as truly as it is 
to withhold an act of justice or of gratitude due to a fel- 
low-being. 

THE ABOVE OBLIGATIONS UNIVEESAL. 

We have thus specified the first principles of virtue 
and morality, and have shown how the mind comes to the 
knowledge of them. The duties they enjoin are temper- 
ance, chastity, benevolence, justice, veracity, faithfulness, 
gratitude, piety. The list of terms might be extended to 
include such as charity, forbearance, kindness, &c. ; but 
their meaning is all comprised in the above. The duties 
which we have considered cover the entire field of mo- 
rality, as surveyed by reason and conscience unaided by 
experience and by revelation. 

They are binding upon all men, Pagans, Mahometans, 



NATUKAi PEINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 307 

Jews, as well as Christians. For Christianity did not create 
the human mind, nor endow it with reason and conscience ; 
neither did it originate the first principles of morality. 
It recognizes, sanctions, and enforces the principles taught 
by nature ; it also enriches them with other and higher 
principles and motives; thus augmenting the responsi- 
bility of those to whom it is given, without diminishing 
the responsibility of those who are without it. 

K we have correctly stated the first principles of 
morality, and the way by which they may be known, all 
men can Icnow theon^ and, knowing them, ought to obey 
them. They are " written in their hearts," approved by 
their " consciences," and are the rules which righteous 
judgment must eternally approve. * 

* The critical student or curious reader, who is desirous of consulting 
authors respecting the first principles of knowledge, and of duty, is referred to 
the following works, roost of which are in the Astor Lihrary, New York. 
Plato, (Euvres completes, tradtiite par V. Cousin ; also Eng. Lond. Ed. espe- 
cially Vol. I. Crito and Phsedo. Malehranche, Recherche de la Verite, and 
Traite de Moral, Descartes, Lux Naturae. Leibnitz, Nouveaux Essais. Buf- 
fier, Traite des Premiers Verites. Wollaston, Religion of Nature Delineated, 
p. 25. D'Alembert, who says that teaching first principles is only reminding one 
of what he previously knew. Beattie, Essay on Truth, p. 25. Kant, Critique of 
Pure Reason, and Jacohi's strictures upon it, and exposition of the distinction 
between Sense, as teaching us corporeal and conditioned existences, and Reason 
(Vemunft), as teaching us supersensible truths. These last he terms revela- 
tions, intuitions, &c. Bishop R. D. Hampden, Lectures on Moral Phil., p. 40. 
Hartley, Theory of the Human Mind. Mackintosh, Ethical Phil. George 
Moore, M. D., Man and his Motives ; also, Power of the Soul and Use of the 
Body, p. 40. Sydney Smith, Elementary Sketches of Moral Phil. Cudworth, 
Intel. System. V. Cousin, especially his translation of Descartes' Discour de 
la Methode pour bien conduire la Raison. G. W. F. Hegel, Werke Vollstan- 
digt Ausgabe. Schelling, Philosophische Schriften ; especially his System des 
Transcendentalen Idealismus. J, Mill, Phenomena of the Human Mind. 
Lord Herbert, De Veritate. Sir William Hamilton, PhiL of Common Sense, 
p. 19. Locke, Essay, b. L, p. 20. Other authors upon the same subject, to 
whom I have referred elsewhere, are in most libraries, and are familiar to the 
general student. 

The point to which I would invite particular attention, is the remarkable 



308 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



GEISTEKAL INDEX TO OUB VIEWS. 

He wlio is temperate, chaste, honest, well-behaved, 
from mere prudential considerations, or any others not 
involving regard to duty, or what is morally right, is, in 
the vulgar sense, a virtuous man. 

He who is conscientious in his conduct, acting upon 
principles of social honor and integrity as involved in duty, 
but only as the duty respects himself and his fellow-beings, 
is, in the same sense as above, .a moral man. 

He who is conscientious in his conduct, acting upon 
principles of all honor and integrity as involved in duty, 
not merely as the duty respects himself and his fellow- 
beings, but, over and above all, his God, is a religious 
man. 

The antithetic terms are : virtue and vice; morality 
and crime; piety and sin. And as the so called virtues, 
in the vulgar sense, may be jhqvqIj prudential, we some- 
times designate those which are practised from regard to 
duty, as moral virtues. 

We thus have the following : constitution, virtue, mo- 
rality, religion ; each and all of the preceding being in- 
cluded in the succeeding. Instinct is minor to virtue, 
virtue to morality, and morality to religion. A person 
cannot be virtuous without instinct, nor moral without 
virtue, nor religious without morality. He may have the 

agreement among all these authors, as to the existence, the naiure, and the claims 
of these first principles. The main difference between the authors has respect 
to the number and extent of the principles, and to the way hy which the mind 
comes to the hnowledge of them. All ontological speculations respecting principles 
supposed to be known otherwise than through the observation and study of the 
phenomenal universe, will have more or less value with different minds, accord- 
ing to constitutional tendency and to education. Such speculations carry us 
at once into those transcendent nebulous realms, where words grow tall and 
bright, but thoughts become dwarfish and murky. 



NATURAL PEINCIPLE8 OF MORALITY. 309 

less without the greater, but lie cannot have the greater 
without all the less. Eeligion is major to all ; it is the 
all-embracing excellence, which includes, perfects, and 
adorns every other, and devotes it to the gloky of God as 

the END OF ALL ENDS. 

We thus see in what essentially consists the dejproA^ity 
predicated of man in the Scriptures. It is not the loss of 
all amiable instincts, nor of all secular virtue and morality, 
but it is apostasy from God. It is being jpractically 
'-^without God in the world." And as the fall of man was 
a is^SLfrom, God, so the change wrought in him, by the 
grace of the Gospel, is a restoration to God. His restora- 
tion to God quickens, exalts, and guides all his instincts, 
virtues and moralities, leading him to devote them all, in 
newness of life, to the divine service. 

As the absence of piety imperils all moralities, and 
tends to their utter undoing ; so true piety protects them 
all, and tends to their ultimate perfection. But this is 
always a gradual work. The evil hegins in departure 
from God ; the good hegins in return to him. From these 
beginnings the good and the evil gradually increase, l^o 
man becomes eminently good, and no man becomes a 
reckless villain, at once. E'o man ascends to angelic ex- 
cellence, and no man sinks to infernal wickedness, by a 
single leap. 



CHAPTEE ni. 

MORALITY TAUGHT BY EXPERIENCE. 

ExPEKiENCE reaffirms all that reason and conscience assert, 
and besides this, furnishes additional rules of duty. It 
was divinely intended to teach us what we ought to do, as 
well as what is expedient for us. 

""We refer to the experience of mankind at large ; not 
merely to that which is personal. We are bound to take 
lessons of duty from authentic history, from natural science, 
from the admonitions of wise and good men, as well as 
froih our individual experience. 

We learn duty from experience on the principle as- 
sumed by Paley, that " as God wills and wishes the hap- 
piness of his creatures," the moral quality of an action 
may be known by its " tendency to promote or hinder the 
general welfare." This is the method of ascertaining duty 
only where the other fails. 

Paley does not consider an action right, on the mere 
ground that it promotes happiness. He is not so boldly 
utilitarian. He considers it right, on the ground that, 
hecause it promotes happiness, it is onanifestly according 
to the will of God. He supposes that God " wills and 



NATTJKAL PEINCIPLES OP MOEALITY. 311 

wishes " our happiness, and hence that whatever promotes 
it must be according to his will, and therefore right. 

His error lies in taking what seems to be the tendency 
of actions, as always indicating the divine will, instead of 
directly apprehending the first principles of morality as 
right in themselves, irrespective of all consequences. 
Hence Stewart has well remarked, " K we could take into 
due account the whole value of right principle, and the 
whole happiness produced by virtuous feelings, we could 
commit no practical error in making the advantageous 
consequences of actions the measure of their morality. 
But this can happen only by considering moral good as a 
primary good, valuable for its own sake ; not by supposing 
that virtue is aimed at as subservient to some other pur- 
pose of more genuine utility ; and no sagacity or fairness 
of estimating useful consequences can stand as a substitute 
for the love of right itself. It is true that honesty is the 
best policy ; but he who is honest only out of policy, does 
not come up even to the vulgar notion of a virtuous nlan. 
If a man were tempted by the opportunity of gaining a 
large estate, through a safe but fraudulent proceeding, the 
utilitarian scheme would seem to recommend him to 
weigh both sides well, though it would direct him in Con- 
clusion to decide in favor of probity; but the .common 
judgment of mankind would hardly deem him honest, if 
he hesitated at all." * 

But if Paley erred on the one side, by positing the 
entire cause of morality upon the utilitarian or greatest 
happiness scheme, some have also erred on the other side, 
by throwing the tendency of actions entirely out of the 
account, and falling wholly back upon the supposed infal- 
lible decisions of what they call the moral sense. If the 

* Active and Moral Powers, p. 409. 



312 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

former error makes men too calculating and prudent, the 
latter renders tliem self-willed and fanatical. 

At any rate, too much forethought, and too prudent 
regard to the consequences of our conduct, are not vices 
of which the Bible loudly complains, nor for the preva- 
lence of which we have any special cause of alarm at the 
present time. 

Fiat jiistitia^ mat coelum^^ is a maxim of undoubted 
soundness, but there are more ways than one, by which 
we are to determine what the ''justitia" is. 



THE QUALITY OF ACTIONS LEARNED BY EXPERIENCE. 

The pain attending injuries inflicted upon our persons 
is an indication that it is wrong to inflict them, and an 
admonition to us not to do it. To cut, burn, or bruise the 
flesh ; to contract or distort the figure, for the gratification 
of vanity ; needless exposure to sickness, perils, or undue 
severities; all violations of natural laws, as related to 
health and vigor ; are clearly contrary to the will of God, 
because they tend to produce pain and death, where he 
designed happiness and life. It is sufficient to condemn 
them, that they are violations of natural law ; but it is by 
their tendencies that we know they are such violations. 

Needlessly to extract a tooth or amputate a limb, is a 
violation of natural law ; but if the member is so diseased 
that general experience has proved its removal promotive 
of health and comfort, the act of removing it ceases to be 
any such violation, and becomes morally right. 

In the same way we are to decide respecting the use 
of intoxicating drinks or of opium. We have no instinct 
to guide us, as the brute is guided, in determining whether 

^ Let right be done, be the consequences what they may. 



NATURAL PEINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 313 

the temperate use of these things is injurious ; nor does 
reason afford us any clear light, nor conscience any sure 
admonition, upon the subject. The immediate effect of 
them is usually pleasing, and hence offers strong induce- 
ments to use them. The only way, therefore, to determine 
whether the temperate use of them is morally right, is by 
observing their ultimate tendencies. K they are proved 
to impair health, entail suffering, and shorten life, the use 
of them is as immoral as it is imprudent. 

In the same way we are to decide whether indulgence 
of any kind is immoderate. Appetite is not an infallible 
monitor. Indeed it can seldom be fully indulged without 
harm, for it is seldom in a strictly normal condition. 
Every person is therefore bound to consult exj)erience^ and 
to restrain his appetites within the limit which it proves 
to be most conducive to Jiealth. To fail in this, is to fail 
of the cardinal virtue of temperance, 

FASHION AND DEESS. 

The Chinese adopt the fashion of compressing the feet 
of their female children of high birth into small wooden 
shoes, to prevent their growing to a natural size. They 
thus render such children cripples for life. Some western 
nations, instead of compressing the feet, attack the more 
dangerous part, and compress the waist; thus inducing 
feebleness, diseases of the spine and lungs, and inviting 
premature death. 

In both cases the motive is the same ; namely, to re- 
move the subject from the appearance of vulgar labor, 
and impart to her an air of refinement and beauty. A 
small foot to the eye of the fashionable Chinese, is what a 
slender waist is to the eye of a fashionable American. To 
each it is beautiful. 
14 



3M 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



But while it is beautiful to the eye of one person, it is 
quite the reverse to the eye of another. I^Tor is this be- 
cause the one is cultivated and the other rude ; for persons 
of the highest culture differ upon this point. "We cannot 
then determine by any cesthetical rule which fashion is 
right. 

!Nor can we decide this by adopting the principle, that 
we ought not to divert the body from its natural growth ; 
for all nature is made subject to our pruning and culture. 
If we do not attend to the development and growth of the 
body, it becomes deformed. Who shall decide how far 
this culture should be carried? We submit while young 
to painful dental operations, to secure the future beauty 
of the teeth ; why not do the same for the feet, the waist, 
the head ? 

There is but one answer : whatever e&yperience proves 
to be most conducive to health, vigor, the full and free use 
of our faculties, and length of life, is certainly according 
to the divine intent. The wearing of the hair long or 
short, the tonsuring of the beard or allowing it to vegetate 
in full, the cultivation of the moustache or the imperial, 
&c., &c., about which grave questions of morality and 
religion have been raised, are mere matters of taste and 
convenience. But to follow any fashion that wars against 
health and life, is as immoral as it is unwise. We may 
call it only an innocent foible, but offended law, both 
natural and moral, will punish it as a crime. 

CONFLICT OF TASTE WITH UTILITY. 

What gratifies the sentiment of taste^ sometimes con- 
flicts with apparent utility. In this case, as in all others, 
the most important demand must rule. But who shall 
decide which is the most important ? 



NATUKAL PEINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 315 

A farmer has upon his grounds near his dwelling a line 
ffrove of trees. He has little taste for the ornamental ; 
his thoughts are for the profitable. The wood might be 
sold for much, and the land made to yield an annual har- 
vest. ]^or need we suppose him miserly. He may be a 
conscientious and benevolent man. He has children to 
educate, and is disposed to contribute generously to worthy 
objects. He therefore thinks it his duty^ to sacrifice the 
grove to a useful purpose. 

His neighbor, being of a different taste and culture, 
pronounces the direst anathema upon his head. The most 
sacred sentiments of his heart have been outraged. Had 
he been owner of the ground, he would have subsisted 
upon one meal a day, and even have curtailed the educa- 
tion of his children, rather than perpetrate so savage a 
deed. To mar the beauties of nature thus, is an offence 
for which he has no forgiveness. 

Which of these men is right % Each may be right, in 
his way. Each must view the subject with his own eyes ; 
and until they can exchange the use of them, they should 
agree to differ. The one man is utilitaricm / the other is 
CBsthetical ; but they may be equally conscientious. It was 
divinely intended that men should thus differ ; for from 
differences like this spring the various pursuits which are 
the bond of harmony, and which furnish the "spice of 
life." 

In all such cases, we should allow every man to follow 
the dictates of his own conscience, and be sure that we 
offend not our own. " Why is my liberty judged of an- 
other man's conscience ? " " Happy is he that condemneth 
not himself in the thing which he alloweth.'' K one man 
is captivated with the grandeur of Niagara Falls, and an- 
other sees in them nothing to admire, but thinks only of 
the useful purpose they might subserve, in driving ma- 



316 MOKAIi PHILOSOPHY. 

chinerj, we have only to smile at tlie difference between 
them, and devoutly wish that each may be true to his 
mission. 

THE EIGHT OF PKOHIBITOKY LAWS. 

'No human laws are designed to make men righteous. 
Their object is to restrain immoralities within limits essen- 
tial to the general welfare. The righteous do not need 
law ; it is made for the vicious. '' The law is not made 
for a righteous man, but for the lawless and disobedient." 
Such are the persons for whom the State must enact pro- 
hibitory laws, and establish courts and prisons. But while 
restraining these, they should place the least possible bond 
upon human liberty. They should respect the privileges 
of the virtuous, while restraining the misdeeds of the 
vicious. They should be just to all, and never attempt to 
rule the conscience. 

How, then, are we to judge of the rightfuliJfess of a 
prohibitory law ? Suppose one, for instance, restraining 
the sale and use of intoxicating liquors. That such a law 
is not needful for the temperate, all admit. The man 
whose conduct is ruled by the cardinal principles of virtue, 
needs no such artificial rule as this. But is it needful for 
the intemjperate f That is the question ; and it must be 
settled by experience. 

That it imposes undue restraint upon any man's con- 
science^ would not be pretended. The restraint is wholly 
upon the demands of the a/pjpetite or of ihepurse. Hence 
we have only to inquire whether its tendency is favorable 
to the general and individual welfare. K it is found to 
prevent vice, to protect virtue, to encourage industry and 
thrift ; to carry peace and abundance to the domestic 
hearth ; to empty jails, prisons, poorhouses, and asylums 
for the insane, and to replenish shops, manufactories, 



NATUEAL PKESrCIPLES OF MORALITY. 317 

farms, and schools of learning, with useful talent and wise 
endeavor; if it thus helps to redeem men from debas- 
ing bondage, and to raise them to the dignity and happi- 
ness for which they were made ; then such law is clearly 
just and good, and every man ought to sustain it. 

But should any privilege of the temperate be curtailed, 
for the sake of removing temptation from the intemperate ? 
What privilege is curtailed ? The former no more need 
the unrestrained use of intoxicating drink than the latter. 
K its presence is no temptation to them, restraint is no 
loss. Indeed, it is not the strictly virtuous who usually 
complain of such prohibitions. 

I offer no special pleading in behalf of any particular 
law. I only assert that any prohibitory law not forbidden 
by conscience nor the Bible, which has been proved to be 
beneficial to the general welfare, and which curtails no 
virtuous privilege, is morally right. In all civilized com- 
munities many such laws are enacted, to prevent crime, 
to encourage industry, to promote education ; and they 
are as binding upon our consciences as the first principles 
of morality. Indeed, these principles themselves require 
ns to do what we can to procure the enactment of such 
laws, to obey them, and to enforce their observance. 

THE PKINCIPLE OF EXPEDIENCY. 

But he who merely conforms to the letter of law, does 
not reach his duty. A man is bound to do what is expe- 
dient^ as well as lawful. "All things are lawful unto me ; 
but all things are not expedient.'''' The law may allow 
things which expediency forbids, and which are therefore 
wrong. 

For example, the law may allow a man to take intox- ' 
icating drink at the festive board. To take it might do 
him no harm, and might afford him pleasure. But cir- 



318 MORAL THILOSOPHY. 

cumstances may make it inexpedient. He might, by in- 
dulgence, encourage others to do the same, whom it would 
injure. They may be reclaimed inebriates, or persons of 
ill-governed appetite, whom the least indulgence might 
entice to ruin. 

He miglit also weaken the cause of temperance, and 
put arguments into the lips of every inebriate about him. 
Shall he do what is lawful^ or what is expedient? Shall 
he avail himself of the law^ to protect his indulgence, or 
shall he practise self-denial^ if such it be, for the general 
welfare ? A good conscience could not hesitate as to duty. 

I^or is there here any ground for the stale charge of 
pretension and hypocrisy. In obeying his conscience, the 
man does exactly as he pretends. He does not claim a 
higher morality than he practises. He does not pretend, 
that the use of wine is in itself and under all circumstances 
wrong ; but that, when it is unnecessary, and tends to evil, 
it is his duty to refrain from using it. His example says 
to those inclining to intemperance, that he refrains for 
their sake, not his own. It is an act of self-denial for 
their good. 

]S^ot only so, it is an act of kind regard to the strictly 
temperate. He might by indulgence offend their con- 
sciences, or embolden them to do what their consciences 
condemn. To practise self-denial, from such motives, is 
to act upon the principle which induced Paul to refrain 
from meat that had been offered to idols. He knew and 
averred that there was nothing wrong in the use of the 
meat, considered in itself ; but he said, " When ye sin so 
against the brethren, and wound their weak consciences, 
ye sin against Christ. "Wherefore, if meat make my 
brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world 
standeth, lest I make my brother to offend." * 

* 1 Cor. viii. 13. 



NATURAL PKINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 319 

MORALITY OF AMUSEMENTS. 

Intemperate and cruel amusements are condemned by 
the first principles of virtue and benevolence. But there 
are many amusements not necessarily of this kind. 
Among these we may enumerate fashionable assemblies, 
balls, theatres, horse-racing, gaming ; in short, all those 
recreations whose direct object is pleasure. 

Pleasure is a good, and may be sought by right means ; 
but whether these means are right, can be judged only by 
their effects. We have no intuitions, and there are no 
positive precepts, which directly determine their quality ; 
and there are plausible arguments both for and against 
them. 

If they are proved to be, under certain restrictions, 
means of virtue as well as pleasure ; if they contribute to 
the health, thrift, cheerfulness, and morality of the com- 
munity ; especially, if they are strictly subservient to our 
spiritual duties and interests ; they are so far forth lawful 
and right. To what extent they are so, if at all, it is left 
with our judgment and observation to determine. Hence, 
different men will decide somewhat differently. 

But wherein these things are proved to be of an oppo- 
site tendency ; to induce indolence, waste, intemperance, 
and other vices ; to displace the fear of God and the duties 
of religion ; they are unquestionably wrong, and will be 
condemned by every enlightened judgment. 

The responsibility is therefore laid upon all men, sub- 
jects as well as magistrates, to have an eye to the tenden- 
cies of popular amusements, and to countenance such, and 
only such, as are conducive to the general welfare. 
Enough amusements are at command, which are strictly 
harmless, without adventuring upon any which are of a 
dangerous or even doubtful tendency. 



CHAPTEK IV. 

n.— REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 
MORALITY OF C H K I S T I A N I T Y. 

We are next to consider the revealed principles of moral- 
ity. "We find these in the Christian religion; and it 
is our present purpose to examine their ethical claims. 
Our task here is not with the external evidences for Chris- 
tianity, furnished by history, miracles, and prophecies, 
but with its rightfulness^ as related to our moral nature. 
Let us then glance at its relations to our several faculties. 

Relation of CnnisTiAcaTY to the Appetites. — ^We 
have seen that morality requires us to restrain indulgence 
of the appetites within the limits most conducive to the 
health and welfare of our race. To do thus, is to practise 
the virtues of temperance and chastity, and is precisely 
what Christianity enjoins. She enforces these virtues, not 
only by the motives of prudence and morality, but by the 
higher motives of religion. 

She announces the most terrible judgments upon the 
vices of unrestrained appetite; drunkenness, gluttony, 
fornication, and self-pollution; and admonishes us that 
" every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in 



REVEALED PKINOIPLES OF MORALITY. 321 

all tilings." To ''keep under the body and bring it into 
subjection" to tlie law of spiritual life, she inculcates as 
an indispensable condition of both our temporal and spir- 
itual welfare. 

At the same time, she enjoins no austerities ; she is 
kind and generous to all the bodily wants ; she invites a 
free and full expansion of all its powers ; she says to 
every one, in respect to body as well as soul, " Do thyself 
no honrmP And facts have proved, that they who best 
regard her admonitions, take the surest way to health, 
happiness, and length of days. 

Kelation" of Christianity to the Affections. — ^We 
have seen that morality condemns every malignant affec- 
tion, and requires of us benevolence towards all men, even 
our enemies. So does Christianity. She says : " Love is 
the fulfilling of the law." " Love your enemies, pray for 
them that curse you and despitefuUy use you, that ye may 
be the children of your Father which is in heaven." 

She provides for all the natural affections, and de- 
mands their due exercise. She gives full and harmonious 
play to the parental, filial, fraternal, conjugal, and social 
affections ; and employs them all in her service, in a way 
to render us prompt and happy in discharging our various 
relative duties. 

But while she calls for these affections, she does not 
allow our love to take a narrow and selfish form. It must 
be all-embracing. She enjoins an impartial philanthropy. 
She teaches us that every man is our brother, and that we 
ought to regard his temporal and eternal welfare. Her 
command is ever upon us, " Love all men.^^ 

Relation of Christianity to the Desires. — ^The first 
of these in our enumeration is the desire of life. Chris- 
tianity nourishes and animates this desire ; augments the 
value of life, by considerations of infinite moment ; teaches 
14* 



822 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

US how to prolong it ; presides as a guardian angel over 
it ; and finally teaches ns to project the desire for it be- 
yond the grave, and to live here in view of living for 
ever hereafter. 

'Next is the desire of hajp^iness. Christianity encour- 
ages this desire, and makes earnest appeals to it. She 
teaches us to live in view of the highest happiness ; never 
taking one pleasure from us, but for the sake of giving us 
a better. She forbids no pleasures but such as tend to 
misery. She thus guides, tranquillizes, and strengthens 
the desire itself, while proffering to it the highest possible 
means of gratification* "We have only to heed her admo- 
nitions, and for every hm'tful indulgence renounced, we 
receive "joy unspeakable and full of glory ; " for " the 
pleasures of sin for a season," we receive full draughts 
of endless blessedness from the " pure river of water of 
life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God 
and of the Lamb." 

The desire of society^ or the social feeling, is another 
element in the mental constitution ; and for this, too, 
Christianity fully provides. She always regards us as 
social beings, destined to find much of oui- happiness in 
each other ; and many of her precepts respect our mutual 
relations as members of the same community. The pub- 
lic worship of God she has made social ; the Christian 
Church is social ; the Christian heaven is social. And 
Christianity teaches us so to cultivate the social affection 
and live together upon earth, that we may live together 
in blessedness for ever in heaven. 

"We have the desire of knowledge. No desire is more 
constant and active ; and for none does Christianity more 
generously provide. She places at our disposal all the 
treasures of science, all the operations of nature, all lan- 
guages and all arts. She invites us to study the heavens 



REVEALED PEIKCIPLES OF MORALITY. 323 

as the work of God's hands, the moon and the stars which 
he has ordained ; to take lessons from the fowls of the 
air, the lilies of the valley, the grass that clothes the 
field. 

She provides also for that deeper thirst of knowledge, 
which pertains to om' spwitual natm^e. She reveals a 
portion of the wonders of the invisible world. She makes 
known to ns some of the " things " which " the angels 
desire to look into." In view of her disclosures we are 
sometimes constrained to exclaim, " O the depth of the 
riches, both of the wisdom and the knowledge of God ! " 
And at every step of onr way, she cheers ns with the 
assm-ance, that if true to her teachings, we shall never 
cease to grow in knowledge. 

We have the desire of esteem, ^ov does Christianity 
disregard this. She discoimtenances vanity, and other 
errors to which the desire often leads, bnt she cherishes 
the desire itself, and seeks to gratify it in the highest 
degree. She wonld first of all render ns worthy of the 
esteem we desire, and then put ns in possession of it. 
She teaches ns to discriminate between that esteem which 
is valuable and that which is worthless, to seek the former 
and despise the latter ; to conduct so as to win the esteem 
of the wise, and secure '' the honor that cometli from God 
♦ only." Jesus Christ said, '^ K any man serve me, him 
will my Father honor / " thus appealing to our desire of 
esteem, and telling us how to obtain for it the highest 
possible satisfaction. 

We desire to sustain the relation to beings and to 
things, by which we can claim them as our own. And 
this craving Christianity would gratify, in the truest and 
fullest sense. It is only the covetous desire, that she con- 
demns. She would not only protect us in the enjoyment 



324 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

of what we have, but put us in relation to new friends 
and possessions, to be sacredly ours for ever. 

She so enlarges our inheritance, if we obey her, as to 
make it include all that can be desired, both in this life 
and in that which is to come. "Therefore, let no man 
glory in men, for all tilings are yours / whether Paul, or 
ApoUos, or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or 
things present, or things to come, all a/re yours / and ye 
are Christ's, and Christ is God's." It is the exalted pri- 
vilege of the Christian, that the friendship and riches of 
Christ's kingdom are his own j that even the God of 
heaven is his own God. 

Finally, we have the desire of power. JN'o instinct 
of the human mind does Christianity more cautiously 
guard than this, and more vigilantly guide to the realiza- 
tion of its true object. While she condemns, in no mea- 
sured terms, all selfish ambition, she teaches us to aspire 
to the sublimest of all power, the " power to become the 
sons of God ; " and, by becoming such, to obtain power 
to rule our own spirit ; power over temptation ; power to 
tread the world under our feet ; and, by a life of supreme 
devotion to the great end for which we were made, to 
wield a benign moral inflence over the character and des- 
tinies of mankind. ]^o other power is so worthy of our 
supreme desire and untiring pursuit. 

And more than this, Christianity teaches us to antici- 
pate thrones of power and influence in the world to come. 
" To him that overcometh, will I grant to sit with me on 
my throne^ even as I also overcame, and am set down 
with my Father on his throne." 

Relation of Christianity to the Emotions. — Chris 
tianity allows the boundless exercise of all the purely 
natural emotions, and furnishes motives to excite them 
Emotions of the beautiful, the grand, the sublime, the 



KEVEALED PEINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 325 

terrible, the awiul, are addressed by no appeals more 
vivid and stirring than those furnished in the life, teach- 
ings, sufferings, and death of Jesus Christ ; and especially 
in the disclosures made by him and his disciples relating 
to the end of time, the general judgment, and the retri- 
butions of eternity. 

Moral science recognizes another class of emotions, 
as morally right or wrong. It condemns hatred, anger, 
revenge, envy, pride, every form of malignant passion ; 
and holds remorse and despair to be the fruit of evil 
doing. Christianity, in like manner, condemns them ; 
and also presents motives to restrain them, drawn from 
the forgiving love of God in Christ. 

^' Avenge not jourselveB,^^ she says, "but rather give 
place unto wrath." " Let all bitterness, and wrath, and 
anger, and clamor, and evil speaking, be put away from 
you, with all malice ; and be ye kind one to another, 
tender-hearted, forgiving one another ; even as God for 
Christ's sake hath forgiven you." 

Condemning all emotions which morality disowns, 
she also utters her divine approval of those which moral- 
ity allows. Thus emotions of love, pity, sympathy, for- 
giveness, gratitude, penitence, humility, faith, and hope, 
are by her regarded as the fruits of divine grace in the 
heart, and evidences of a regenerate spirit. " The fruit 
of the Spirit," she says, " is love, joy, peace, long-suffer- 
ing, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance ; 
against such there is no law." " Godly sorrow worketh 
repentance to salvation, not to be repented of." Thus the 
best and happiest emotions that ever beat in the human 
heart, are due to the Christian religion. 

Relation of Christianity to Taste and Sentiment. — 
Christianity condemns all false taste and sickly sentiment- 
alism. But there is a taste true to nature, which refines 



326 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

and elevates the soul ; and there is a sentiment which 
finds delightful repose in whatever is pure and lovely. 
These Christianity protects and fosters. There are no 
forms of true beauty and sublimity, whether actual or 
ideal, to which she is a stranger. 'No conceptions of ima- 
gination are richer, bolder, more original, or more vivid, 
than those to which she gives rise. 

The effect of Christianity, wherever she has prevailed, 
has always been to correct and exalt the taste. A friend 
to the fine arts, she guards them with an ever vigilant eye 
from perversion and abuse. Hers is a religion of medi- 
tation, as well as of action ; not only afi'ording to us the 
luxury of doing good, but of feasting our minds with 
ennobling thoughts, cheering hopes, and charming senti- 
ments. By studying her lessons and imbibing her spirit, 
we realize the finest sentiments and most brilliant concep- 
tions of which the mind is capable. 

Relation of Christianity to the Will. — We have had 
previous occasion to refer to this, with reference to a par- 
ticular point. We have now another in view. It has 
been supposed that some of the doctrines of Christianity 
are at variance with the entire ^freedom of the human will. 
They are so, only as viewed through the mists of false 
philosophy. Whatever may be the nature of the gi'acious 
influence by which the mind is renewed, we cannot sup- 
pose, without denying the teachings of Christ, that it is 
at variance with our responsible power of will ; for to 
that he appeals. Men do as they will in religion, not less 
than in other matters. 

The influence which Christ by his Spirit exerts upon 
the human will, to induce a right choice, is not that of 
mechanical force. He operates upon mind, not by the 
laws of matter, but by tlie laws of mental operation. His 
method of approach to us, when he would gain our con- 



REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITr. 327 

sent to be his, is on this wise : " Behold^ I stand at the 
door and TcnockP 

By his providential dealings, by his teaching and ex- 
ample, and especially by the influences of the Holy Spirit, 
he presents himself to ns as a friend, knocking at our door 
to gain admission. He comes to save us from sin, reclaim 
us to God, and give us foretastes and hopes of eternal life. 
He does not knock once or twice, and then, if unanswered, 
turn away. His attempts to gain admission are so re- 
peated, that he is said to " stand at the door." 

" If any man hear my voice, and ojpen unto me." We 
must attend to his teachings ; we must hearken to his call. 
We must also '' open^'' the door to him. The act implied 
in opening the door, is, our free consent to receive him. 
"We must be cordially willing to have him enter, to abide 
with us as our indwelling and informing Word, and to be 
our only and our sufficient Saviour. 

To every one who shall thus receive him, he gracious- 
ly promises, " I will come in to him, and will sup with 
him and he with me." The cordial consent gained, Christ 
enters, mutual friendship is declared, and the royal ban- 
quet commences. 

We hence see tlmt Christianity respects the natural 
laws of the will, as truly as she does those of the other 
mental powers. She treats us as voluntary, not less than 
as susceptible and as intelligent beings. She aims to move 
the will and the whole heart through the intellect, and to 
induce us heartily to choose '*the good part that shall 
never be taken away from us." And if all history and 
observation are not false, by thus yielding our hearts to 
Christ and following him, we are sure to reach the highest 
moral excellence attainable upon earth. 

Relation of Christianity to Reason and Conscience. 
— ^It has been objected to Christianity that she does not 



328 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

appeal to our reason^ but to ouv faith. It is said that she 
does not address us as rational beings, but as confiding, 
trusting beings, who, sensible of our ignorance and feeble- 
ness, and awed bj the majesty of her miracles, have only 
to prostrate our reason at her feet, and follow her com- 
mands with a blind and submissive credulity. 

Christianity does, indeed, make demands upon our 
faith ; nor could she otherwise be true to our necessities. 
We have seen that faith is itself a sublime virtue, and is 
parent to many others. She also regards us as feeble and 
ignorant, nor could she truly regard us otherwise. She 
moreover commends herself to our homage, by stupendous 
miracles of power and grace, such as God only could per- 
form ; and this is what we ought to expect from such a 
Being, when putting his seal upon so important a message 
from his throne. 

There is nothing unreasonable in all this ; and if she 
teaches us things which unaided reason could never have 
known, this again is what we ought to expect ; for why 
should she come to teach us only what we knew before, 
or could as well learn without her ? It is enough that she 
teaches nothing contrary to reason ; that she sanctions 
and confirms all that reason could learn without her ; and 
then, taking the human mind in charge, conducts it 
straight upward in the same path, upon which it has by 
the light of reason entered, to the full blaze of eternal 
light and glory. 

We have seen that the essential principles of morality 
are perceived in the concrete, by the intuitions of reason, 
and that actions conformed to them are cardinal virtues. 
These, conscientiously practised, are the only true basis 
of morality, and they lie also at the foundation of Chris- 
tianity. She is thus an eminently reasonable religion. 
She rests her claims upon the decisions of enlightened 



REVEALED PKINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 329 

conscience, and commands us to judge and to act, not 
less in religion than in other matters, as rational beings. 
Hence, to deny the fundamental principles of Christianity, 
is to subvert morality ; to be false to our own nature, and 
to act irrationally in the highest degree. 

In the chapter upon Conscience we have seen that this 
faculty, in the large and Scriptural sense, includes the 
reason and understanding. All of its admonitions, ap- 
peals, rebukes, all the pangs and all the joys it im- 
parts, depend upon the intellective powers. In its legit- 
imate exercise, it never admonishes us to act unreason- 
ably. It never inflicts upon us a pang, for doing what 
we believe to be a truly reasonable act ; it has no joys for 
us, in reward for an unreasonable one. A man justly re- 
proaches himself, only when he sees that his feelings and 
conduct are unworthy of himself as a rational being. 
Christianity without and conscience within unite in one 
voice, commanding us to devote all our powers of body, 
of feeling, and of will, to the noblest and most " reason- 
able service," Thus she enthrones herself in our rational 
nature, and employs all the force of conscience within, 
and all the machinery of government without to make us 
faithful to its high demands. The truest Christian is the 
best of moralists and the most reasonable of men. 



CHAPTER Y. 

REVEALED FACTS OF CHRISTIANITY. 

The most important of the revealed /b^cfe, from which are 
deduced the principles of Christian morality, are the fol- 
lowing : 

1. The Existence and Perfections of the True God. — 
None of the heathen nations seem to have arrived at any 
certainty upon the question, whether there are several 
gods or only one. Even the wisest of the Grecian and 
Pom an philosophers were in doubt upon this subject. 

Christianity has settled it. She reveals one only living 
and true God, and condemns all other claims to divinity. 

Pagan nations have also been ever in doubt respecting 
the moral perfections of God. They have usually invested 
their deities with some malignant passions. But Chris- 
tianity has taught us that " God is love / " thus divesting 
him of every malignant temper, and revealing him as a 
Being of infinite moral excellence. Perhaps no cause 
has operated more disastrously upon the morality of 
heathen nations, than their imparting to their deities gross 
and selfish feelings. 



REVEALED PEINCIPLES OF MOKALITY. 331 

2. The Ckeation of Man. — Revelation apart, mankind 
have never been able to come to any tolerable conjecture 
respecting their origin. Speculations upon this point 
have been endless, and all equally unsatisfactory. Chris- 
tianity has taught us, re-uttering the language of the He- 
brew Scriptures, that '' in the beginning God created 
man male and female ; " and that the human race have 
sprung, by natural descent, from this divinely created 
pair. 

3. The Primitive Purity of Man. — ^Whether man has 
ever been in a state of perfect purity, has also been ques- 
tioned. Poets have sung of a golden age, a purer state, 
from which we have degenerated ; but even this concep- 
tion seems to have been remotely due to revelation. 
Christianity reveals the primitive purity of man ; and by 
thus holding distinctly before us the state for which we 
were designed ; what we have been, may be, ought to be, 
and, if we embrace the gospel, will be, is at once a guide 
and incentive to moral excellence. 

4. The Origin and Extent of Human Sinfulness. — 
All agree that mankind are sinful, but how they came to 
be so, none have been able to tell us. Christianity in- 
structs us, that our first parents became sinners by trans- 
gressing the divine command ; and that the transgression, 
thus commenced, has been perpetuated by their descend- 
ants. Our first parents fell from their allegiance, became 
indisposed to obey God ; and their posterity have the dis- 
position which their progenitors had after they fell. 

Christianity enlightens us also respecting the extent of 
human sinfulness ; teaching us that it is %miver8al. '^All 
have gone out of the way." '' There is none that doeth 
good, no, not oneP This fact is of great importance, in a 
moral as well as religious view. AYe are -all in fault. 
"We cannot glory over one another ; boasting is excluded. 



332 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Humility and repentance are cardinal moral virtues, 
equally binding upon all mankind. 

5. The Dispensation" of Gkace. — Whether there is help 
for human sinfulness, or whether men must impotently 
submit to its dominion and inevitably pay the penalty in- 
curred by sin, it seems to have been impossible for un- 
aided reason fully to determine. Christianity has revealed 
a dispensation of grace. '' God so loved the world that 
he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth 
in him might not perish, but have eternal life." He has 
thus revealed himself a redeeming God. A sun of 
righteousness has thus risen upon the world, " with heal- 
ing in his wings." There is hope for man, fallen and 
guilty though he be. 

A healing and restoring process is going on all around 
us ; should it pass by the human soul ? This gracious dis- 
pensation is the most effective of all means to promote 
morality, causing the main difference between the morals 
of Christian and those of pagan nations. Upon the re- 
deeming grace of God in Christ, the world's morality, as 
well as its religion, ultimately depends. 

6. The Certainty of Future Existence and Eetei- 
BUTioN. — That we shall exist, in some mode, beyond the 
grave, has been imagined, hoped, and even expected, 
by pagan philosophers. But the certainty of this, it re- 
mained for Christianity to reveal. " Life and immortality 
are hrought to light in the GosjpelP 

Christianity assures us that we shall exist as conscious 
and accountable beings beyond the grave ; that we shall 
be righteously judged ; and that we shall receive accord- 
ing to the deeds done in the body. " For we must all 
appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, that every one 
may receive the things done in his body, whether they be 
good or bad." This revealed fact is of the highest prac- 



REVEALED PKINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 333 

tical importance to the cause of morality. Indeed, the 
validity of an oath, and the main supports of civil and 
religious freedom, depend in great measure upon it. 

7. The Kesukeection of the Body. — Arguments for 
the resurrection of the body have been drawn from the 
ai5alogies of nature, especially from the seeming resur- 
rection of the vegetable and lower animal creations. But 
these are mere analogies, after all ; they positively prove 
nothing. For the proof of this doctrine, we are entirely 
dependent upon Christianity. She informs us that our 
immortal spirits will hereafter be invested with immortal 
bodies. They will not be, like these, gross, sensual, 
earthy ; they will be spiritual, refined, angelic. Yet they 
will sustain to these someunrevealed important relation of 
identity. '' So, also, is the resurrection of the dead. It 
is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption ; it is 
sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory ; it is sown in weak- 
ness, it is raised in power ; it is sown a natural body, it is 
raised a spiritual body." 

As this is a doctrine entirely above the reach of unaided 
reason, but not contrary to it, it is the province of reason 
to receive it by faith as a learner ; not doubting that God 
is able to teach us, by revelation, what we could not 
otherwise have known. If the claims of Christianity as a 
revelation from God are well established, the resurrection 
of the dead is a fact in the future as certain as our death. 
The same Omnipotence that lays the body in the dust, 
can rob the grave of its treasure, and from the ruin and 
waste of ages clothe every redeemed spirit with a glorious 
immortal form. 

As to the TYioral tendency of the doctrine, we cannot 
fail to see, that if we are to be raised incorruptible, and an 
important relation is to be for ever realized between our 
mortal and our immortal bodies, we are under powerful 



334: MOEAIi PHILOSOPHY. 

inducements not to yield our " members as instruments of 
unrighteousness unto sin," but " as instruments of right- 
eousness unto God." 

PRINCIPLES OF DUTY DEDUCED FKOM CHKISTIAinTY. 

These, then, are the leading facts, for the knowledge 
of which we are mostly indebted to revelation : the ex- 
istence and perfections of the true God ; the creation of 
man ; the primitive purity of man ; the origin and extent 
of human sinfulness ; the dispensation of grace ; the cer- 
tainty of future existence and retribution ; and the resur- 
rection of the dead. 

If Christianity is true, these revealed facts impose 
obligations upon us additional "to those imposed by the 
light of nature. Where much is given much also is 
required. Thus, although Christianity does not ma'ke us 
accountable beings, it greatly enhances our accountability. 

From the first of the above revealed facts, we clearly 
and fully learn the duty, already partially taught by the 
light of nature, to render supreme religious homage to one 
only living and true God. 

From the second, we learn the direct claim of God 
upon us, as the Maher of our frames and the Father of 
our spirits, and our general duty to all mankind, as chil- 
dren with us of a common Father. 

From the third, we see in man's original character, 
which God pronounced "very good," the moral and 
spiritual excellence for which we were made, a/iid to which 
we should aspire. 

From the fourth, we deduce the rule of duty, binding 
alike upon all men, to he penitent and humhle hefore God 
for our sins / the penalty of neglecting it being an- 
nounced in the weighty words of Christ himself, " Except 
ye repent, ye shall all lilcewise perish^'^ 



REVEALED PKINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 335 

From the fifth, it becomes our manifest duty, not only 
to be penitent for our sins, but also to trust the proffered 
grace of God for pardon and salvation y accepting the 
generous provisions of his Gospel, and reposing in the 
assurance that " he who helieveth shall he savedP 

From the sixth, we learn the rule of duty alwa/ys to 
conduct in view of the righteous retributions of eternity. 

From the seventh, we learn that we ought to rise 
above the servile fear of death and the grave, and so to 
consecrate " our bodies a living sacrifice unto God^^ that 
we 'may hope to live and shine with them hefore his throne 
for ever, in new and glorious forms. 

If Christianity is true, we are all bound to adopt the 
above principles and to act habitually upon them. Such 
is Christian morality. It conducts us quite up to the 
borders of purely spiritual philosophy, upon which the 
limit of our present subject does not permit us to enter. 

Along with the revelation of these momentous facts, 
and her bright and shining array of precepts and warn- 
ings attending them, Christianity has also enjoined upon 
us certain Institutions, which are of the highest impor- 
tance, both to our temporal and eternal welfare. She did 
not originate them all, but she has put her seal upon them, 
and has placed mankind under a bond sacredly to regard 
them. These are the Sabbath, Marriage, Public Worship, 
the Church and its ordinances, and Civil Government. 



CHAPTER YI. 

INSTITUTIONS OF CHRISTUNITY. 
THE SABBATH. 

A HEBDOMADAL period of rest and devotion is rendered 
necessary by the physical, the intellectual, the moral^ and 
the religions wants of the human race. 

The physical wants of both man and beast demand it. 
All laboring men, and all domesticated animals subjected 
to service, need one day in seven for repose. This has 
been proved by careful induction of facts. Those com- 
munities which most faithfully observe the Sabbath as a 
day of rest, enjoy the most vigorous and prolonged health. 
The French nation, at the period of the great revolution, 
decimated the time, allowing only one day in ten for rest ; 
but this was found insufficient, and they were obliged to 
return to the observance of one day in seven. 

The intellect, as well as the body, requires the same 
rest. Clergymen, whose vocation calls for special mental 
activity upon the Sabbath, find it necessary to rest upon 
the following day. Those who fail to allow their minds 
an amount of repose tantamount to one day in seven, are 
not long able to endure the labors of their profession. 



REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MOEALTIT. 337 

Mental rest is found in change. It is not so much in 
doing less^ as in doing something else^ that the mind re- 
covers its exhausted vigor. The laboring man who spends 
the Sabbath as he ought, gives his mind more activity, 
perhaps, upon that day than upon others ; but it is a kind 
of activity that relieves it of the burden which it has 
borne through the week, and prepares it to resume that 
burden with renewed vigor for the week to come. While 
the merchant, the politician, the professional man, finds in 
the calm and elevated devotions of the Sabbath the only 
adequate repose from the bustle and vexations of secular 
time. 

More especially is the Sabbath needful to man as a 
TTwral and religious being. I^o elevated state of morals 
has ever been sustained without it. Mere intellectual 
culture, however severe and refined, cannot supply its 
place. The morals of the Greeks and Romans, even 
under the most rigorous discipline, became so debased as 
to subvert their civil institutions. Without the Sabbath, 
no nation has ever been able to establish and perpetuate 
free institutions. 

By turning our minds to our moral and religious re- 
sponsibilities, by leading us to thoughtful reflections upon 
the past and anticipations of the future, by enlightening 
and quickening our consciences, the Sabbath becomes an 
essential means of improving our character. Those com- 
munities which best observe the Sabbath, are the most 
intelligent, virtuous, and pious. The habitual violators 
of it, even in the best communities, usually become de- 
bauched in morals, and frequently end their lives in 
disgrace. 

Perceiving thus a necessity for the Sabbath, we reason- 
ably presume that God has instituted one. Let us then 
briefly inquire whether a hebdomadal Sabbath, that is, 
15 



338 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the observance of one daj in seven as a time of rest, has 
been divinely appointed. Om- examination covers three 
distinct periods ; the first, from the creation to Moses ; 
the second, from Moses to Christ ; the third, from Christ 
till the present time. We have thus the Primitive, the 
Mosaic, and the Chi-istian Sabbath. 

THE PEIMniVE SABBATH* 

In the book of Genesis, the second chapter, we find 
that as soon as God had created the world he instituted a 
Sabbath. " Thns the heavens and the earth were finished, 
and all the host of them ; and on the seventh day God 
ended his work which he had made ; and he rested on the 
seventh day from all his work which he had made. And 
God hlessed the seventh day, and sanctified it j because 
that in it he had rested from all his work which God 
created and made." 

We are here taught the following facts : 

1. As his crowning act at the completion of creation, 
God ordained a Sablath. It was " made for man^'' as 
Christ has taught us ; made for him in his infancy, that 
he might, under its benign influence, be trained up in 
virtue and piety. As it was given to our progenitors, it 
was of course given to the race whom they represented. 
It is an institution coeval with creation, and enduring as 
the human family. 

2. He not only ordained a Sabbath, but set us the 
example of obsermng it. He himself " rested on the sev- 
enth day." And we are expressly taught in the twentieth 
chapter of Exodus, that his rest was divinely intended to 
be an example for us to follow. 

3. He also " Uessed^^ the day. He put the seal of his 
special favor upon it, as the day above all othei*s fraught 
with his richest gifts to man. 



REVEALED PEmCTPLES OF MORALITY. 339 

4. He ^' sanctified " it. That is, lie set it apart, or con- 
secrated it, from secular to sacred purposes. Thus by his 
positive act, it was set apart from the other days of the 
week expressly for religious purposes. 

In the brief history of the race furnished in the Sep- 
tuagint, from the creation to the time of Moses, we find 
distinct reference to this Sabbath. JSToah was command- 
ed to enter the ark, with his family and the numerous 
creatures committed to him, " seven days " before the 
flood. This command seems to have provided against 
his trespassing upon the Sabbath ; as the gathering of so 
many creatures together with all his effects into the ark, 
would occupy several days. For a similar reason, he 
waited seven days between the times of sending forth the 
dove. 

"We find explicit reference to this Sabbath in the six- 
teenth chapter of Exodus. The Israelites are there ex- 
pressly commanded to provide manna beforehand for this 
day. " This is that which the Lord hath said. To-morrow 
is the rest of the Holy Sablath unto the Lord." When some 
of the people violated the injunction, they were sternly 
rebuked, "How long refuse ye to keep my command- 
ments and my law? See, for that the Lord hath given you 
the Sabbath^ therefore he giveth you on the sixth day the 
bread of two days ; abide ye every man in his place, let 
no man go out of his place on the seventh day. So the 
people rested on the seventh dayP 

Thus it appears that the Sabbath was instituted, ob- 
served, and blessed by God, and was also made obligatory 
upon men, previous to the Mosaic law given on Sinai. 
The earliest Grecian and Roman classics, also, refer to the 
hebdomadal division of time. 



340 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



THE MOSAIC SABBATH. 



This is tiie same as tlie Sabbath of creation, reaffirmed 
by the voice of God on Sinai. But as the command to ob- 
serve it was incorporated in the civil and religions code 
furnished by Moses, it is hence called the Mosaic Sabbath, 
Three particulars must here be noticed. 

1. The government of the Israelites was a Theocracy ; 
that is, a government administered by God, having both a 
civil and religious end. Hence some of the laws given to 
them through Moses were of a national character, binding 
only on this particular people ; while others were of a 
strictly moral and religious character, equally obligatory 
upon all men. 

2. Of the latter is the commam^d to he&p the Sdblath. 
It is found in the law of the Ten Commandments,which 
is always referred to in the Scriptures as containing the 
sum of the moral code given by God to man. Jesus 
Christ and his apostles, who made a distinction between 
what was moral and religious, and what was ceremonial 
and national, always referred to the Sabbath as an institu- 
tion oi j^erinojnent and universal obligation. '' The Sab- 
bath," said Christ, " was made for man ; " that is, for man 
in general, for the human race. It is an institution which 
all men equally need, and are equally bound to observe. 

3. The Sabbath was set apart not only as a day of rest 
from secular pursuits, but of religious worshi/p. While 
the most solemn denunciations were uttered against those 
who desecrated it to secular purposes, most animating 
promises of favor were made to those who kept it holy 
unto the Lord. "If thou turn away thy foot from the 
Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day, and 
call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honor- 



REVEALED PEINCIPLES OF MOEALITY. 34J 

able ; and shalt honor him, not doing thine own ways, nor 
finding thine own pleasures, nor spealdng thine own words ; 
then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord, and I will 
cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and 
feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father ; for the 
mouth of the Lord hath spoken it." ^' From one Sabbath 
to another, shall all flesh come to worship before me, saith 
the Lord." The Sabbath was sacredly observed by the 
Jews as a day of solemn convocation and of preaching.* 

THE CHKISTIAl^- SABBATH. 

The Christian Sabbath is a continuation of the Mosaic. 
The only material question here respects the change of the 
time from the seventh to the first day of the week. The 
solution of the question is found in the following par- 
ticulars : — 

1. Although the necessity for the Sabbath exists in 
nature, this necessity does not indicate any one day in 
preference to another. It is one seventh portion of time 
that is needed for rest and devotion; and, considered 
merely in this view, it is not material which day is taken. 

2. The wisdom of God, which frequently secures sub- 
ordinate ends along with the main one, at the creation of 
the world chose the last day of the seven for the Sabbath, 
because it fitly commemorated the great work which he 
had then completed. This was the reason assigned by him 
why he then preferred the seventh day to any other. 

3. But he regarded the work of redemjption greater 
than the original work of creation. " Behold," he says, 
" I create a new heaven and a new earth : and the former 
shall not he remembered^ nor come into mind." This new 

* See Neh. 13 : 16-21. Isaiah 58 : 13. Lev. 23 : 3. Isaiah 66 : 23. Acts 
15 : 21. 



34:2 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

creation is evidently the work of redemption by Jesus 
Christ. As it transcends in a moral and religions view 
the first creation, the same reason which designated the 
seventh day for the Sabbath under the old dispensation, 
designated the Ji/rst day under the new. Each alike im- 
mediately follow the completion of the great work which 
it commemorates. 

Such, then, are the reasons for the change. Let us now 
see whether the change was actually made by divine 
authority. 

1. The first day of the week commemorates the com- 
pletion of the work of redeiruption. On the morning of 
this day the Lord arose from the dead, and thus turned 
the thoughts of his disciples upon this as henceforth the 
great day of his church. It was from this time called the 
Lord^s day. 

2. On the next Lord's day, one week from his resv/r- 
rection^ he appeared to his apostles.* It was then that he 
conversed with Thomas. The disciples were assembled 
within a house, evidently for worship. Thus early did 
Christians commence observing this day. 

3. From that time they continued to assemble for wor- 
ship on the first day of the week, and in so doing acted 
by the authority of God, and with his signal blessing. 
Their great Pentecostal season ; their stated meetings to 
celebrate the Lord's supper ; their contributions for bene- 
volent objects ; the spiritual raptures of John in Patmos; 
were all upon this day.f 

4. What was thus commenced by the inspired Apos- 
tles, was continued hy their immediate successors. The 
early Fathers speak of this day as the one set apart for re- 
ligious worship, because it commemorates the resurrec- 

* John 20 : 26. 

t See 1 Cor. 11 : 14. 1 Cor. 16 : 1, 2. Acts 20 : 6. Rev. 1 : 10. 



REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALriY. 343 

tion of the Lord. The celebrated letter of Pliny to Tra- 
jan, in which he speaks of the stated meetings of Chris- 
tians for worship, is to the same effect. All the earliest 
ecclesiastical historians testify, that Christians observed 
the Lord's day as holy time. 

Shonld any still object to the change, we may add 
that the universal observance of the first day by Christians 
renders it extremely inconvenient, if not quite imprac- 
ticable, for a few individuals strictly to observe any other ; 
and that the example of inspired Apostles, with the seal 
of God's approbation, ought to suffice with every reason- 
able conscience to establish the divine authority of the 
Christian Sabbath. 

WHEN THE SABBATH BEGINS. 

The Jewish Sabbath commenced on the eve of the day ; 
that is, on the QYomxig preceding the Sabbath day. Many 
have inferred from this, that the Christian Sabbath should 
commence at the same time. But a leading idea of the 
Jewish Sabbath was rest^ which naturally commences at 
the dose of the day ; while a leading idea of the Christian 
Sabbath is resurrection^ rising^ which naturally occurs in 
the morning. It was then that Christ arose. 

It is also generally admitted, for good reasons, that we 
should commence the Sabbath at the same time we com- 
mence other days. If, however, any still prefer to com- 
mence their Sabbath on Saturday evening, they have the 
example of our excellent Puritan ancestors, and usually, 
also, the advantage of keeping two evenings ^^.s holy time 
instead of one. 



CHAPTEE Vn. 

INSTITUTIONS OF CHRISTIANITY CONTINUED. 
MAKKIAGE. 

The conjugal relation was instituted by God in paradise 
before the fall. It is not, then, like some institutions, a mere 
expedient of a fallen state ; it belongs to man in inno- 
cence. It originated in the fact that our race was made 
male and female, each having peculiarities of constitution, 
temperament, and disposition, which could find their ap- 
propriate object only in the other sex. Hence God said, 
" It is not good that man should be alone." 

The institution remains unchanged. — It survived the 
fall, and subsequently the great deluge, which swept all 
but one family from the earth. The Abrahamic covenant 
ratified and confirmed it ; the revolutions of the Jewish 
state and polity did not change it ; Messiah's advent gave 
it new confirmation ; and, at the calling of the Gentiles, 
it was passed over to them with all its original sanctions. 
Thus launched in the beginning upon the stream of ages, 
it has passed through all its breaks and rapids, has out- 
rode every storm, and has descended in its primitive in- 



REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 345 

tegrity to these latter ages. It will thus endure until the 
end of time. 

The conjugal union is both a religious and civil con- 
tract, formed by the mutual choice of the parties. They 
are united as husband and wife, agreeably to the design 
of the Creator, as indicated by the constitution of the 
sexes and by his word. It has ever been found an indis- 
pensable means of promoting industry, intelligence, mo- 
rals, and religion. 

Wherever it has been disregarded, the people have 
descended to all the abominations of pagan licentiousness. 
All that is dear in natural affection, lovely in virtue, and 
glorious in religion, has there been sacrificed. 'No mar- 
vel that an institution so important should have been or- 
dained by God, under most solemn sanctions, and that the 
nations most highly civilized and moral are precisely those 
who have enjoyed its benign influence. 

It thus appears that polygamy is not of divine origi/ifi. 
The parties originally united in the conjugal relation were 
one man with one wom^an. God gave to Adam but one 
wife. Polygamy was introduced by the wickedness of 
mankind. God never approved of it, although for a time 
he " endured " it, as he often has other evils, to avoid those 
which, under the circumstances, might be greater. " For 
the hardness of your heart," said Christ, '' Moses wrote 
you this precept, hut from the beginning of the creation 
God made them male and female. For this cause a man 
shall leave father and mother, and cleave to his wife, and 
they twain shall be one flesh. What, therefore, God hath 
joined together, let not man put asunder." 

The marriage covenant is binding during the natural 
life of hoth the parties. ISTothing but death, or the infi- 
delity of one of the parties, can annul it. "What, there- 
fore, God hath joined together," said Christ, " let not mam, 
15* 



346 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

^t asunder.''^ '' Whosoever shall put away his wife^ ex- 
cept it be for fornication, and shall marry another, com- 
mitteth adultery." 

This covenant is subject to the will of God, and can 
involve no promise, or duty, at variance with morality 
and religion. The command, '^ Wives, submit yourselves 
unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord, has sometimes 
been supposed to imply absolute submission. But it evi- 
dently would not be a submission as imto the Lord^ if it 
involved the violation of any religious obligation. The 
same principle applies to each of the sexes. ]^either can 
have a right to require of the other what conscience does 
not approve. They may enlighten and convince each 
other ; but if light and argument fail, they must agree to 
differ. 

The covenant presupposes these points settled. It 
is ordinarily inexpedient, to say the least, for parties to 
unite in marriage who are not of the same religious faith. 
"How can two walk together except they le agreed ?^^ 
The evils resulting from want of union on this vital sub- 
ject, are often lasting as life, and they seriously affect 
the destinies of the children. 

It has been thought unreasonable that the relation of 
each party to the other should be restricted for life to a 
single individual. But when we consider, that the equality 
of the sexes in number is the same now as it was at the 
beginning, when God " made them male and female," and 
thus by his creative act constituted them to unite m pairs / 
and when we consider, further, that the laws of both body 
and mind, and the united voices of all human experience, 
affirm that the benign purposes of the institution can be 
fully secured in no other way, the entire reasonableness 
of the restriction is put for ever at rest. 



REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 34:7 



PUBLIC WORSHIP. 

The public worship of God was an institution of the 
Mosaic religion, and was modified and adopted by Chris- 
tianity. All pagan nations have some forms of public 
worship, and the more cultivated of them, as the^reeks 
and Eomans, erected for this purpose temples and altars. 
Sometimes they erected temples even to " unknown gods ; " 
so urgent is the feeling in man that he ought to worship. 

But in the Christian religion, the public worship of 
" the only living and true God " is instituted with a sim- 
plicity and a distinctness beautifully appropriate to its 
sublime object. We are there taught to worship God 
" in sjdrit and in truth.''''' While Christ was upon earth, 
he worshipped thus with his disciples ; and after his death, 
they were Accustomed to assemble for the same worship 
upon the Christian Sabbath ; thus transmitting to us, by 
their example as well as teaching^, not only the institution 
itself, but the nature of the service enjoined. 

This public worship of God was not designed to super- 
sede private devotion, nor any personal and relative duties 
whatever, but to provide for thesocial religious principle^ 
of oui- nature ; to afford us opportunity to pay our united 
"homage to our common Lord and Saviour, and thus to 
anticipate upon earth the eternal worship above. 



THE CHURCH. 

A covenant existed between the people of God under 
the ancient dispensation, which has been modified and 
perpetuated in the form of the Christian church. The 
church was instituted by the apostles, under the imme- 
diate guidance of heaven ; it was by them planted in nu- 



34:8 



MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 



merous places, and great numbers were added to it under 
their ministry. 

In Palestine, in Asia-Minor, in Macedonia, in Greece, 
in Rome, the apostles preached the Gospel with success, 
and established churches. These churches were visibly 
separate bodies, having local interests; but they were 
spiritually one and the same church of their common 
Lord and Saviour. They were all one in Christ. 

The institution of the Christian church has descended 
to us, with all its divine sanctions. It is as obligatory 
upon us, as it was upon Christians of the first century. 
The same reasons still exist, why Christians should pub- 
licly espouse the cause of their Master, acknowledge their 
faith in him, and covenant with each other in sacred fel- 
lowship. Man is still the same being, and Christianity is 
still the same religion. And experience has abundantly 
proved, that the Christian church, in its pure state, is an 
advocate and support of every virtue and morality, and a 
" pillar and ground of the truth." 

The Christian church has two ordinances, Baptism, and 
the Lord's Supper. 

Baptism. — ^The ordinance of hajptism seems to have 
been observed, in some form, before the advent of Christ. 
John the Baptist, his forerunner, administered it, and 
Christ himself was baptized by him on entering upon his 
great mission. Although Christ did not himself baptize, 
he commanded his disciples to do so. In obedience to 
his instruction, wherever they preached the Gospel suc- 
cessfully they also baptized. 

And that the ordinance might not be restricted to that 
particular age or people, Christ gave to his disciples as 
his last command, after his resurrection, " Go ye, there- 
fore, and teach all nations, haptizing tJiem in the name 
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost ; 



REVEALED PEINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 349 

and lo I am with you always^ even unto the end of the 
world.^^ Thus authorized, the ordinance is to descend to 
the end of time. 

Baptism seems to have been appropriated by Chris- 
tianity as a badge or seal of discipleship, and an emblem 
of purification. As an ordinance of the Christian church, 
it indicates the purity required of those who become 
members of it, and serves to perpetuate its identity, dis- 
tinctness, and organic power. 

The Lord's Sijppee. — ^This ordinance was enjoined by 
Christ, a short time before his death. Its design is clearly 
indicated by his own words. " Jesus took bread, and 
blessed, and brake it, and gave to them, and said, Take, 
eat ; this is my body. And he took the cup, and when 
he had given thanks, he gave it to them ; and they all 
drank of it. And he said unto them, This is my blood 
of the JS'ew Testament, which is shed for many." This 
ordinance is then designed to commemorate the death of 
Christ. With this view it was transmitted, by his au- 
thority, to Christians of all ages. 

" For I have received of the Lord," an apostle informs 
us, " that which also I delivered unto you, that the Lord 
Jesus, the same night in which he was betrayed, took 
bread ; and when he had given thanks, he brake it, and 
said. This is my body, which is broken for you ; this do 
in remembrance of me. After the same manner also he 
took the cup, when he had supped, saying. This cup is 
the I^ew Testament in my blood, this do ye, as oft as ye 
drink it, in remembrance of me. For as often as ye eat 
this bread and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord's 
death till he come." * 

That there should be a special ordinance to commem- 

* Matt. 26:26. 1 Cor. 11: 



350 



MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 



orate so important an event as the death of Chi-ist, is in 
the highest degree reasonable ; while the severe and re- 
peated self-inspection enjoined as a prerequisite to its 
observance, must, if faithfully performed, be greatly con- 
ducive to purity of heart and life. " Let a man examine 
himself ; and so let him eat." 



CIVIL GOVEENMENT. 

Civil Government, like the preceding institutions, is 
not a mere conventional arrangement of men. It is a 
divine institution. It was formally sanctioned, and duties 
respecting it were enjoined, in both the Old and the JN'ew 
dispensations from heaven. To fulfil their destiny, men 
must live in society / and it was not the will of God, that 
they should dwell together in a state of anarchy. Ac- 
cordingly we find civil government existing, by his 
appointment, under guidance of the Patriarchs, and sub- 
sequently under the leadership of Moses ; and obedience 
to its laws was by him enforced with severe penalties. 

When Christ came, he did not annul the institution, 
but inculcated -the duty of sustaining it. He distin^ 
guished between temporal and spiritual governments, 
and required due regard to both. He enjoined obedience 
to all civil laws, so far as they are consistent with the 
laws of God. 

STJMMAHY. 

We have thus briefly noticed the leading doctrines 
and institutions of Christianity. The reader will see that 
by this religion we understand the entire revelation made 
to us in the Bible, of which Christianity is the consum- 
mation. The rules of conduct which it prescribes are 
called revealed principles, in distinction from those which 



EEVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 35^ 

are purely natural. The latter are also essential^ having 
their reason and authority in themselves, while the former 
are positive^ resting their claim upon the authority of 
divine revelation. 

But Christianity enjoins also the natural principles of 
morality as well as those which she reveals. She would 
have us not fail to be true to nature, as well as to herself; 
she therefore teaches us that we can be dutiful to her, only 
as we are so to nature also. She embraces in her wide 
domain the entire ground of both natural and revealed mo- 
rality. She holds it to be as immoral in us to violate a 
principle of the one as of the other. Arraigned at her 
bar, an act of injustice to a fellow-being is as truly an 
immorality as the profanation of the Sabbath ; and the 
worship of God is as binding upon every individual as 
the duty of temperance. 

We have considered the evidences for Christianity only 
so far as they are involved in a purely moral view. Our 
single inquiry has been, "What is right f "What ought to 
be ? "We have seen that the requirements of Christianity, 
so far as they are viewed in the light of morality taught 
by nature and approved by conscience, are wholly reason- 
able and just, and that we cannot disown the morality of 
Christianity without disowning that of nature also. But 
there are also positive external evidences of her divine 
mission, which no man has ever been able to refute. They 
have become established historical facts^ as truly so as 
those relating to Grecian and Roman history. The ex- 
amination of these does not come within the design of the 
present work. 

But the thoughtful reader will not fail to see that even 
the purely moral claims of Christianity, which are only a 
part of its internal evidences, are convincing proof of its 
divine origin, while the flood of clear light which it pours 



352 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

upon the feeble teachings of nature, and its revelation of 
new and momentous truths rising high above them, im- 
pose upon us peculiar and most weighty obligations. For 
in a strictly moral view, our obligations are in proportion 
to what we receive. Where much is given, much is also 
justly required; hence no moral system can be entire 
which leaves the claims of Christianity out of view. 

Christianity, as I have before said, does not make us 
accountable beings ; nor is she responsible for the helpless 
and miserable condition in which she finds us. She finds 
us as we are ; she had no agency in making us so. Her 
entire mission to us is one of mercy and redemption. JS^or 
was her mission uncalled for by our condition. There 
was no other eye to pity, no other arm to save. Without 
her aid, despite of all his science and philosophy, man is 
in deep darkness respecting the most important of all sub- 
jects. He is an awful mystery to himself. He stands 
trembling, with one foot in the grave, on the verge of an 
unknown eternity, with a burden of guilt upon his con- 
science and of sorrow in his heart. He and the world 
must soon part for ever, and what then remains to him ? 
A conscious existence ? And if so, must he bear that guilt 
and that sorrow for ever ? May he never look up and be- 
hold a smiling God, and bright heavens above and around 
him ? Must the last throb of expiring nature, for aught he 
can see, separate him for ever from all that renders his ex- 
istence desirable ? Is there any name given under heaven 
amongst men, whereby he can be saved from sin, from 
sorrow, from the fear of death, from the grave itself, and 
be made to realize the lofty aspirations of his rational and 
immortal being? 

In vain does he invoke the heathen oracles, in vain 
summon all the philosophers of the olden and the modern 
times, in vain importune science, in its profoundest re- 



KEVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 353 

Bearches, to answer these inquiries. All human tongues, 
all science, and all nature, are here silent. Even the 
shining orbs of heaven, that hymn so eloquently their 
Maker's praise, and which inspired the sublimest strains 
of the royal minstrel, are voiceless here. It is in this our 
deep and fearful necessity, that Christianity comes to our 
rescue. By embracing her friendly hand and following 
her guidance, myriads have already overcome sin, temp- 
tation, and the fear of death, and have left behind them a 
shining path, through which they ascended into the 
heavens. She has the same triumphs for myriads more ; 
for us and for all who will receive her. Does she not, 
then, impose upon us a special obligation ? Is it not a 
fearful wrong, a vast and terrible immorality, to neglect 
this great salvation ? 

Unless all history and experience are false, in reject- 
ing Christianity we reject the only means adequate to the 
salvation we need. This faith, ruling the heart and life, 
is the only victory that overcomes the world. Without 
this, there is no overcoming ; life is all undero^oimmg^ from 
the beginning to the end of it. The mark is ever low, 
the vision short and dim, the arm feeble ; and even the 
bravest and most successful man, in the very act of reach- 
ing forth to grasp his wretched all, stumbles into his grave, 
and is soon forgotten ! The winds sigh for a little time 
around his grave, and the storms of a few winters sweep 
over it, but finally even the winds forget where his dust 
was laid, and know not where to sing his requiem. 

" Oh, what is this world," says an excellent author, in 
language whose beauty and force are equalled only by its 
severe and exact truthfulness, " when we have turned away 
from the cross of Christ, and from the instruction which 
God has given us in his word ? Man is seen upon the 
earth a strange being, playing a strange part, and encir- 



354: MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

cled by mysteries. He has been created lie knows not by 
wbom, or when, or for what end. He begins to sin as 
soon as he begins to act, but he knows not why. He finds 
himself prone to evil by some mysterious law for which 
there is no explanation. He suffers, he knows not why ; 
he lives, he knows not for what end ; and when he dies, 
he goes into another world, he knows not whither or why! 
He can do nothing to stay the progress of the plague 
which sweeps away the race, and he can only stand and 
weep over the grave which he digs for his pale brother, 
and which he himself must soon enter. He stretches out 
his hands to heaven, as if there might be help there, but 
none appears." 

" His eye poureth out tears " as it is lifted towards 
the skies ; it gazes intensely for light, but not a ray is 
seen. His nature pants to live for ever, but no response is 
given to the aspirings of his soul ; nothing tells him that 
he may live. He is a poor, ignorant, degraded, and dying 
being, seeking for a guide and panting for a system of re- 
ligion that will meet the wants of his nature and raise 
him up to God. Revealed religion comes and tells him 
who made him, and why ; explains the way in which the 
race sank into this melancholy condition, and how it may 
be recovered ; proposes promises adapted to him as an 
immortal being ; reveals a brighter world, and explains to 
him how it may be his own." * 

Our references to Christianity have thus far been with 
a view to showing its coincidence with the natural prin- 
ciples of morality, its adaptation to our constitution and 
necessities, the intrinsic reasonableness and justice of its 
claims, and, along with these, the positive obligations it 
imposes upon us, on the supposition that its divine author- 
ity is admitted. 

* " The Way of Salvation," by Albert Barnes, p. 67. 



EEVEALED PEINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 355 

K any of my readers demand other and more positive 
demonstrations of its divine authority, I must refer them 
to authors especially devoted to that service. In ex- 
pounding the code of moral duties, I shall assume that 
the divine claims of Christianity anre admitted. Pure 
morality enjoins, as we have seen, supreme regard to the 
will of God. That will is made known to us in the esseTi- 
tial principles of duty addressed to every man's conscience 
by the light of nature, and in the revealed principles of 
duty furnished us by the Bible. These, united, are God's 
coMPEEHENsrvE LAW, our Supreme and ultimate eule of 
EIGHT, in obedience to which we are to secure the true 
end for which we were made. 



PART y. 

THE CODE OF DUTIES. 



CHAPTEK I. 

RELIGIOUS DUTIES. 

We are now prepared to expoimd the code of duties. 
Having examined their grounds and principles, we are 
next to explain and enforce them, presenting them in con- 
nection as constituting a complete system of practical mo- 
rality. We begin with religious duties, or our duties to 
God. 

In the highest sense we owe all our duties to God, as 
the subjects of his supreme authority ; duties to ourselves 
and our fellow-creatures being demanded by his law. But 
we are now to consider those duties which we owe to 
God directly and exclusively. We are morally bound to 
be religious. We owe duties supremely to God, as well 
as subordinately to our fellow-beings. " Will a mem rob 
God .^ " K a man is gnilty who robs his fellow, much 



358 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

more is lie who robs Ms Maker. Let us then proceed to 
consider our strictly religious duties, as demanded by the 
principle of moral obligation. 

THE DUTY 01 OBEDIENCE TO GOD. 

Why is it our duty to obey the will of God ? The an 
swer to this question will appear in the following facts : 

1. His perfections render him worthy of our obedience. 
He is a being of infinite power, wisdom, justice, and be- 
nevolence. All those attributes which we were made to 
reverence and obey, exist in him in the highest possible 
degree. They shine forth in all his works like the sun in 
the firmament. We cannot open our eyes without be- 
holding them ; and we see them all engaged in sustaining 
and blessing the universe which he has made. 

2. He is our Creator. To him we owe our existence. 
But for his sovereign pleasure, we should have had no 
part nor lot in the universe. Yonder sun might have 
walked the skies as brightly as he now does ; the morning 
stars might have sung together as sweetly ; the heavenly 
choirs might have rolled up as loud and harmonious an- 
thems of praise ; Jehovah might have been as great and 
glorious in all his works, though our existence had been 
no part of his purpose. It is then of his generosity alone 
that we exist, and are put in relation to the wealth of the 
universe. 

3. He is our Preserver. Our obligation to his pre- 
serving care is as constant as the moments of our lives. 
Should he withhold his sustaining power, we must in- 
stantly perish. " Thou hidest thy face, they are troubled ; 
thou takest away their breath, they die and return to the 
dust." This was said of the brute creation, and is equally 
true of us. Whether we are asleep or awake, we depend 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 359 

upon his guardian care, to deal out to us one breath after 
another, and send the warm currents of life through our 
veins. 

4. He is our Benefactor. All the blessings we enjoy 
come of his hand. " The eyes of all wait upon thee, and 
thou givest them their meat in due season. Thou openest 
thine hand, and satisfiest the desire of every living thing." 
Every moment comes to us laden with the fruits of his 
bounty. Through all our senses, through all our powers 
of thought and feeling, he ministers to our enjoyment. 
By day and by night, at home and abroad, in health and 
in sickness, amid all the . vicissitudes of life, from the 
cradle to the grave, we are the constant recipients of his 
gifts. 

5. He is our rightful Hulee. He has made us capa- 
ble of knowing his will, and of perceiving oui* obligations 
to obey it. He reigns over the universe to uphold its 
laws and promote its welfare, through the willing and 
obedient service of his accountable subjects. If we dis- 
regard his pleasure and refuse to serve him, if we thus 
set our wills in opposition to his, we are both false to him 
and to the interests of the moral kingdom over which he 
reigns. 

6. He is our Bedeemee. "We have rebelled against 
him, and have thus rendered ourselves obnoxious to his 
justice. But instead of inflicting its demands upon us, 
he has graciously provided for our redemption. He "so 
loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that 
whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have 
eternal life." " For ye are not your own^ hut ye are 
lought with a price / wherefore glorify God in yo^ir spir- 
it and im, yowr hodies^ which a/re his" 



360 



MOEAL PHTLOSOPHT. 



NATUEE OF THE SERVICE DUE. 

Thus the claim of God to our service is predicated 
upon his intrinsic worthiness, and his relation to us as our 
Creator, Preserver, Benefactor, Ruler, and Eedeemer. 
This service should be cordial^ sujpreme^ reverential^ con- 
stant. 

It should be cordial. Our whole heart should go with 
it. It should be our meat and drinli, to do the will of God. 
" I delight to do thy will, O my God ; yea, thy law is 
within my heart. ''^ Such should be our feelings in rela- 
tion to the service of God. 

It should be supreme. All other demands should give 
place to those of God. To do his will, should be the 
ruling motive of our lives. We have only to know what 
he would have us do, and the path of duty is bright as a 
sunbeam. To know his will is the highest study ; to do 
it, the highest morality. 

It should be reverential. "We should consider the 
Tnajesty of Him whom we attempt to serve. He is " the 
GREAT Ai^D DREADFUL GoD." At his prescuce " the pillars 
of heaven tremble, and are astonished." If we would 
acceptably serve a mere earthly potentate, we must do it 
with profound respect. How much more should we re- 
vere the " King of kings." " Serve the Lord withfea/r.^^ 
" Let all the earth /^^t* the Lord ; let all the inhabitants 
of the world stam^d in awe of him." 

It should be constant. The obedience required is not 
that of individual and disconnected acts ; it is a deep and 
^tQ2idij ^rinci^ple. It is like that mysterious power which 
holds the planets in steady allegiance to the sun. In 
some parts of their orbits they are nearer the sun and 
move faster than at others, but their hold upon the glo- 



THE CODE OP DUTIES. 



S61 



rious object of their devotion is never relaxed for a 
moment.* 

DUTY IN EEFEKENOE TO THE WORD OF GOD. 

We have in onr hands a Book of very ancient writ- 
ings, claiming to be of divine anthority, and hence called 
the Word of God. Of all the books ever written, this has 
exerted immeasurably the most power over the character 
and destinies of mankind. Under its influence, we see 
men reclaimed from vice to lives of virtue and benevo- 
lence ; we see even whole nations redeemed from sottish 
idolatry to the rational and pure worship of the only liv- 
ing and true God. The most enlightened,* virtuous, enter- 
prising, and efficient people in the world, are precisely 
those most under the influence of this wonderful Book. 

What then is our duty in respect to it ? Evidently, 
to " search " it, with great care ; and, if we have any 
doubt of its divine authority, to examine its credentials. 
The subject is too important to be neglected. A book 
claiming to contain a revelation from God, and attended 
with so many wonderful demonstrations of its divine 
origin and power, ca:mot be innocently disregarded. 

If any one upon due examination professes to believe 
the book false, we must leave the strange person to his 
own thoughts, while we consider the duties implied in a 
rational conviction of its truth. 

Eeceiving the Bible as from God, we ought to hold it 
in great revemnce. To trifle with it ; to quote from it 
with a view to pleasantry and jest ; to question its vera- 
city, or impugn its authority ; in short, to treat it as we 
would a book of mere human origin, is immoral and pro- 
fane. We are ever to consider that this book has the 

* The nature of the affection due to God has been considered in a previous 
chapter. See page 169. 

16 



862 



MORAL PHILOSOPEnr. 



seal of God iipoii it ; and if lie will not hold him guiltless 
who taketh his name in vain, no more will he hold him 
guiltless who taketh his word in vain. 

Still the Bible is a rational book, given in the lan- 
guage of men ; and it is to be examined, interpreted, and 
applied, by the same rules which we apply to other books. 
"We should read and study it, with the sincerity and ear- 
nestness becoming such a book, and with a prayerful 
desire to know its meaning. "We should regard it as 
dutiful children would daily letters of instruction from a 
revered and beloved parent. "We should thus keep our 
consciences enlightened in respect to duty. 

We should faithfully follow its instructions. Every 
truth taught in the Bible we should eagerly embrace ; 
every duty inculcated we should promptly obey. It is 
only as we thus honor it that we may hope to understand 
it, and thus become wiser and better by its teachings. 
" If any man will do his will, he shall hnow of the doc- 
t/rineP K there are portions of the Bible which we do 
not at first understand, this is the way to understand 
them. " Thy word is a light to my feet and a lamp to 
my path." "I have more understanding than all my 
teachers, tecause I Iceep thy testimonies.'^^ " Search the 
Scriptures, for in them ye think ye have eternal life ; and 
these are they which testify of me." 

Better to be without all other books in the world, 
than to be without the Bible ; better to neglect all other 
books, than to neglect this. " Young man," said Benja- 
min Franklin, when near his end, " my advice to you is, 
that you cultivate an acquaintance with and form a be- 
lief in the Holy Scriptures." " Attend," said Dr. Samuel 
Johnson, " to the voice of one who has possessed a certain 
degree of fame in the world, and who will shortly appear 
before his Maker. Kead the Bible every day of your 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 363 

life." The great philosopher, John Locke, gives his ad- 
vice thus : " Study the Holy Scriptures, especially the 
!N'ew Testament. Here are contained words of eternal 
life. It has God for its Author, salvation for its end, 
and truth, without any mixture of error, for its matter." 

THE DUTY OF EEPENTAlTCE AND FAITH. 

We are not only dependent and accountable, but siti- 
ful. This is true of us all. " All hawe sinned^ This 
fact makes it the duty of all to repent. " God commandeth 
all men, every where, to repent." " Except ye repent, 
ye shall all likewise perish." 

An oifence against a fellow-being, is 2^ fault or crime / 
an offence against God is a sin. Hence David said to God, 
" Against tJiee^ thee only^ have I sinned.'^'' He had com- 
mitted crime against man, but sin against God. Hence an 
offence against a fellow-being calls for confession and 
amendment; while an offence against God calls also for 
repentance. The reason is that repentance is a deep 
spiritual work, and God has to do with the heart. 

Eepentance of sin is not, as is often imagined, a mere 
painful excitement of the sensibilities, through fear of the 
divine displeasure ; nor a feeling of mere regret for sin, 
in view of its natural consequences ; nor the feeling termed 
remorse, inflicted by an offended conscience ; nor a mere 
sentimental emotion, produced in view of sin by an ex- 
cited imagination ; it is sincere contrition and cordial 
a/cersion for all sin^ as an offence against God. 

It is always attended with earnest desires for purity 
of heart and life, and with vigorous endeavors after it ; 
with a disposition to confess every sin to God, and to for- 
sake it ; with a feeling of dependence upon divine grace ; 
with a sweetening of the social temper, and, so far as is 
needed, with reformation of conduct. 



364 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Religious faith is a liearty trust or confidence in God. 
Althongli the terms belief and faith are often used in the 
Scriptures synonymously, yet faith is more than mere be- 
lief. Belief may be only an act of the intellect / faith al- 
ways includes also an act of the heart. " For with the 
heart man believeth unto righteousness." As God is infi- 
nitely worthy of our confidence, to withhold from him 
our faith is a great sin, and the source of all other sins. 
On the other hand, faith in God is the crowning act of 
obedience, and the mainspring of all obedience. " With- 
out faith, it is impossible to please him." 

As God has graciously ofi"ered us pardon and salvation 
through the Gospel, saving faith has a special reference 
to this overture. This is sometimes called evangelical 
faith, because it refers particularly to the gospel. It cor- 
dially welcomes the proclamation made by the Gospel, and 
places implicit reliance upon its proffered grace. Such 
faith works by love, imparts a filial spirit, transforms the 
character, and gives victory over sin and death. 

THE DUTY OF PKAYER AlTD PEAISE. 

The duty of prayer and praise, or what is usually 
called worship^ has been ever recognized, in some form, 
by all religions. Christian prayer is the language of the 
human heart, addressed to God through Christ. It speaks 
to him of sins, fears, trials, wants ; it supplicates his par- 
don, and seeks his favor. It is humble, earnest, believing, 
submissive. 

It is huinble. It is the offering of a contrite spirit. 
" The sacrifices of God are a hroken spirit, a hroken and a 
contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise." One of the 
most acceptable prayers ever offered, was in these words, 
*' God he tnerciful to me a sinner.^'' 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 365 

It is earnest. Realizing his pressing necessity, the 
suppliant pleads as for his life. We read of one, " who 
In the days of his flesh, when he had offered up prayers 
and supj)lications, with strong crying and tears^ unto him 
that was able to save him from death, was heard in that 
he feared." Multitudes have successfully followed his 
example. Our Saviour has set us the same. He some- 
times continued all night in prayer ; and on one occasion 
the agony of his soul was such that he " prayed the more 
earnestly^ and his sweat was, as it were, great drops of 
blood falling down to the ground." " The effectual fer- 
vent prayer of the righteous man availeth much.'''' There 
is not a promise in the Bible to a cold and heartless 
prayer. 

It is helieving. " He that cometh to God must 'believe 
that he is, and that he is a rewarder of those that dili- 
gently seek him." Christ said, '^ What things soever ye 
desire, when ye pray, telieve that ye receive them, and ye 
shall receive them." It is an insult to God, to ask him to 
fulfil his promises, without believing that he will do so. 
As unbelief is the parent sin, and faith the parent grace, 
it is only as we pray in faith that we can pray aright, and 
thus avail with God. 

It is submissive. Tlie grace of the Holy Spirit is the 
only gift absolutely promised to prayer. For this only 
may we pray with invincible importunity and an assurance 
of receiving precisely what we ask. " How much more 
shall your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them 
that ask him." We should ask for mere earthly blessings, 
with a deep conviction of our incapacity to know what is 
best for us, and with submission to the ultimate decisions 
of divine wisdom. However earnestly we may desire 
what we seek, we should say, as Christ did, '' Nevertheless 
not as Iwill^ but as thou wiW 



366 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Such is the spirit of Christian prayer. We add, that 
it may be private^ social^ or public. 

Private prayer is the offering of an individual heart 
alone to God. This is the spring of all true devotion ; 
since none but those who pray in secret, can pray accept- 
ably to God in public. Christ uttered the severest re- 
bukes upon those who pray to be seen of men. " And 
when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites 
are ; for they love to pray standing in the synagogues, 
and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen 
of men. Yerily I say unto you, they have their reward. 
But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and 
when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which 
is in secret, and thy Father which seeth in secret shall 
reward thee openly." In the closet the heart opens all 
its wants, freely confesses its sins, and pours out its desires 
for personal good and for blessings upon others, with a 
freedom enjoyed only in secret. Jesus Christ was much 
alone in prayer. 

Social prayer is the imited offering of several hearts 
at once, in a small social gathering. Of this kind {^fam- 
ily prayer. Even the heathens have their household gods 
and their family offerings. The mutual relations of hus- 
band and wife, of parents and children, and of children 
of the same family, are so intimate and peculiar, that their 
social recognition of dependence upon God, and their 
united supplication of his favor, is a most natural and 
important duty. Children can scarcely enjoy a greater 
earthly blessing, than that of being daily conducted by 
Christian parents to the throne of grace at the family al- 
tar. Long after their parents have become silent in the 
grave, they will remember their prayers with gratitude 
and joy. On the contrary, the divine malediction will 
fall alike upon heathen and upon prayerless families. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 



367 



" Pour out thy fury upon the heathen that know thee not, 
and upon the families that call not upon thy nameP 

Public prayer is the united offering of the hearts of 
God's people, when assembled in his house of worship. 
The devotional parts of the Old Testament are replete 
with public prayers ; and the example and teachings of 
Christ and of his apostles, admonish us that public acts 
of devotion are a part of religious duty. The most beauti- 
ful and comprehensive model of public prayer is furnished 
in the words of Christ himself. In this form, called the 
Lord's Prayer, are embraced most of the essential ideas 
which usually enter into the public petitions of Chris- 
tians. 

Religious Praise is an expression of gratitude, adora- 
tion, and joyful homage to God, in view of his glorious 
perfections, and of blessings which he has bestowed upon 
us. It is as truly a duty as prayer, and is as earnestly en- 
joined in the Scriptures. It is, like prayer, private, social, 
and public. It is a pleasing consideration, that this part 
of religious devotion will not cease at death. We have no 
reason to suppose that there will \>q prayer in heaven, but 
we are assured that praise will enter largely into the em- 
ployments of the heavenly state. 

The question is often asked, why prayer and praise are 
enjoined^ since they cannot benefit God ? Knowing our 
wants before we ask, as well as after, why does he wait to 
be requested? and why demand our praise, which can 
add nothing to his glory? The answer is briefly this. 
The affairs of the world move on, for obvious reasons, in 
an established order of sequence. Each event is preceded 
by another preparatory to it. No blessing comes to us 
without its appropriate antecedent. If the grass is to 
gi'ow, there must be rain ; if there is to be rain, there 
must be clouds ; and if clouds, the causes which form 



368 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

them. The same law of antecedence obtains in the king- 
dom of mind. It is as nnphilosophical to say that prayer, 
the divinely appointed antecedent to the gift of the Holy 
Spirit, has no agency in securing the desired blessing, as 
to say that the cloud has no agency in producing rain. 
God could doubtless give us rain without clouds, and so 
he could give us the Holy Spirit without prayer, but that 
is not his way. 

But as in the natural world so also in the spiritual, we 
can see some reasons for this arrangement. The devout 
homage of prayer and praise pr&pares the mind for the 
favors sought. The mind is thus turned to God as the 
source of all blessings. Feelings of dependence and grati- 
tude are enkindled. The very act of looking to God in 
prayer and praise, implies the work of the Spirit already 
commenced ; and the answer to the prayer prepares the 
soul to receive yet larger gifts of the Spirit, and with them 
all other blessings. 



THE DUTY OF OBSERVING THE SABBATH. 

How are we required to keep the Sabbath ? 

1. As a day of rest fi )m secular labor. The com- 
mand is, '' Thou shall do no workP But we are to give a 
reasonable interpretation to this command as well as to 
all others. The law of God, in reference to which all 
commands are to be interpreted, is a law of love and 
kindness. Hence to do such things upon the Sabbath as 
attending upon the sick, burying the dead, taking care of 
our beasts, serving our needful food, preventing the de- 
struction of property, as in the case of fire, is sanctioned 
by the example of Christ, and the obvious principles of 
humanity. These are usually called "works of necessity 
and mercy." The Jews, who had mistaken the spirit of the 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 

command, rebuked Christ for doing sucli things upon the 
Sabbath. He replied, that " the Sabbath was made for 
man and not man for the Sabbath." By which he meant, 
that the Sabbath was made to hless man, not to bring him 
into bondage. 

The command to observe it embraces children, ser- 
vants, beasts, guests, '' all that is within thy gates." We 
are thus required not only to rest ourselves, but to cause 
all under our control to rest with us. 

2. As a day of abstinence from the jpur suits af 
pleasure. "If thou turn," &c. '^from doing thine own 
pleasure / " — " 7iot doing thine own way s^ nor finding thine 
own pleasure, nor sjpeaking thine own words ^ then shalt 
thou delight thyself in the Lord," &c.* We may hence 
violate the Sabbath by so indulging the pleasures of the 
table as to produce dulness of mind, by taking excursions 
for amusement ; by secular reading and conversation, by 
social visiting and recreation, in a word, by any employ- 
ment whose direct object is worldly pleasure. 

3. Ab a day of religious devotion. It is a day conse- 
crated to religious reading, meditation, and prayer. On 
this day, therefore, we ought to spend more time than we 
can usually afford upon other days, in reading the Scrip- 
tures and other religious books, in self-examination, and 
in private devotions. 

The day is consecrated also to the jpublic worship of 
God. His express command, and the example of his 
people in all ages, admonish us to assemble together upon 
the Sabbath, to engage in united acts of public devotion. 
Those who neglect the worship of God in the sanctuary, 
on pretence of offering more acceptable service in private, 
or amidst the works of nature, usually give feeble evidence 

* Isaiah 58 : 13. 
16^ 



370 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

of possessing any of the true spirit of piety, and frequently 
sink at last into avowed infidelity. 

OTHER DUTIES CONNECTED WITH THE SABBATH. 

The other religious duties connected with the Sabbath 
are, a public profession of religion, observance of the 
sacraments of Baptism and the Lord's Supper, sustaining 
the preaching of the gospel, and contributing to the ex- 
tension of Christianity over the earth. Indeed, the Sab- 
bath is so related to all religious duties, that a faithful ob- 
servance of it goes very far towards securing them all. 

He who is truly religious upon the Sabbath, is a re- 
ligious man through the week. It can never be justly said 
of him, as unhappily it may of some, that although he 
seems to have excellent gifts of prayer in the house of 
God, he has other gifts less desirable in the place of 
business. His Sabbath consecrates the entire week to 
truth, justice, purity; to the fear and service of God. He 
is as conscientious in the shop as in the prayer-meeting ; 
in the exchange as in the church. The precept is written 
upon his heart, never to be erased, " Whether therefore ye 
eat or dririk^ or whatsoever ye do^ do all to the glory of 
God:' 

Such is the truly religious man. His is the religion 
of sound morality, and the morality of true religion. His 
spirituality is strictly moral, and his morality has the 
strength, grandeur, and glory which only spiritual mind- 
edness can impart. Although his present sphere of action 
is upon earth, his motives are drawn from eternity. His 
choicest treasures are all safely garnered up where moth 
and rust doth not corrupt, and with calm assurance he 
awaits his everlasting rest in the bosom of God. 



CHAPTEK II. 



PERSONAL DUTIES 



'Nbxt to the duties which every accountable being owes 
to his God, are those which he owes to himself. These 
last are what we term personal duties. Tliere are certain 
very essential things which every person can and must 
do for himself, or they must remain for ever undone ; as 
no other being can do them for him. He is morally bound 
to do them. The doing of them is directly due to him- 
self, and also indirectly due to others ; for he owes it to 
others, as well as to himself, to pursue the course which 
best promotes his own welfare. The duties in question 
are self-respect, self-control, self-defence, self-purity, self- 
providing, self-culture, and self-salvation. 

SELF-KESPECT. 

There is an important distinction between self-respect 
and selfrcsteem. The latter partakes of vanity ; the for- 
mer implies that we do not dishonor ourselves, nor allow 
others to do so. " Let no man despise thee," is an injunc- 



4 



372 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



tion binding upon all men. But no man can secure the 
respect of others, unless he respects himself. 

'No sooner does a person cease to respect himself than 
the nerve of his virtue is broken ; his moral resolution 
and his manliness are gone ; he cannot stand erect and 
look his fellow-man in the face. A consciousness of be- 
ing despised naturally leads to low, servile, despicable 
acts, and thus gradually displaces whatever remains of 
yirtue. 

But if it is a man's duty to respect himself, it is of 
course his duty, under all circumstances, in secret as well 
as openly, to do nothing which will diminish his self- 
respect. Many are anxious to secure the approbation of 
others, even at the expense of their own. However de- 
sirable the good opinion of others, conscious integrity is 
much more so. 

"We may be blind to our faults, and thus judge our- 
selves too favorably. This is a common error. But even 
this is not so fatal to character as to perpetrate secret acts 
of dishonesty, meanness, malice, or impurity, and realize 
the withering consciousness of self-degradation which they 
inevitably inflict. 

Self-respect is also essential to a due self-reliance, with- 
out which character has no firmness nor efficiency. No 
man was ever truly great without it. 



SELF-CONTEOL. 

This implies the due government of the temper, and that 
restraint of other active propensities which we denomi- 
nate teraperance. 

" He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty ; 
and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city." 
Alexander conquered the world, but he never conquered 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 373 

himself. Many a liero has encountered armies, stormed 
citadels, and subdued kingdoms, who never mastered his 
own temper. 

A man of hasty temper is his own worst enemy. He 
betrays himself to the mercy of his antagonist. Many 
have thus not only lost their character and influence, but 
even their lives. In a fit of passion they have done that 
which, in all after life, they have been condemned to 
weep over with unavailing tears. 

Anger is not always wrong, but uncontrolled anger is 
both wrong and dangerous. Even the best friend is not 
safe in its presence. It breaks covenants, betrays trusts, 
alienates friendship, and deals mortal blows upon the head 
of innocence. It is a frenzied wild beast let loose. It 
perpetrates crimes in a moment, which the agony of a 
lifetime cannot atone for. 

It should, therefore, be among the first endeavors of the 
child, to govern his temper. As he advances in years, he 
should accustom himself, when angry, to pause and reflect 
before acting. A man of hasty temper learned to control 
himself by pausing to count a hundred, when he was 
angry, before he spoke or acted. The only cure of a hasty 
spirit is time. 

But self-control, in the broad sense, includes the cardi- 
nal virtue of temperance. There is a limit to healthful 
endurance and action, to transcend which is intemperance. 
That limit is indicated by the point at which eflbrt and 
pleasure cease to invigorate, and are followed by perma- 
nent loss of energy. It may be difficult to determine 
always this precise point ; but careful observation will 
soon teach us how far it is wise to indulge. 

Despite of prudence, however, we are sometimes liable 
to err ; and there is provision for this in our constitution. 
An occasional slight excess, if followed by abstinence and 



374 * MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

caution, usually results in no obvious permanent injury. 
This elasticity of constitution was necessary to freedom of 
action. Without it, all our labors and pleasures would 
need to be measured by so exact a rule, and inspected 
with so severe vigilance, as to render them mechanical. 

A truly temperate man acts unconstrainedly. E"ature 
is in a great measure his guide. If he incidentally toils 
or indulges too much at any time, nature suggests to him 
the alternative of corresponding rest and abstinence. 
Thus, within reasonable limits, nature holds the balance 
and adjusts the weights for him, that he may act the free- 
man and not the slave. 

But the habitual transgressor will not go unpunished. 
He who habitually overtaxes the mind, precipitates him- 
self into mental imbecility, and sometimes into insanity. 
He who habitually overworks the body, induces debility 
and shortens life. 

But such are slight offences, in a moral view, compared 
with the undue indulgence of the appetites. A person 
may overtax both body and mind in a good cause, and 
from benevolent motives. But it is quite different with 
the indulgence of the appetites. Men do not indulge these 
to excess from any benevolent motive, but always from a 
grovelling lust of pleasure. 

In this indulgence, however, they soon defeat their 
own end. For a few momentary gratifications, they bar- 
ter away their liberty, their manhood, their souls ; and 
become the wretched slaves of exorbitant and tormenting 
desires. " A man so enslaved by his animal appetites, 
exhibits humanity in one of its most miserable and con- 
temptible forms. As an additional proof of the misery of 
such a state, it is of great importance to remark, that, 
while habit strengthens all our active determinations, it 
diminishes the liveliness of our passive impressions ; sl 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 375 

remarkable instance of which occurs in the effects pro- 
duced bj an immoderate use of strong liquors, which, at 
the same time that it confirms the active habit of intem- 
perance, deadens and destroys the sensibility of the pal- 
ate. In consequence of this law of our nature, the evils 
of excessive indulgence are doubled ; inasmuch as our 
sensibility to pleasure decays in proportion as the cravings 
of appetite increase. In general, it will be found, that 
whenever we attempt to enlarge the sphere of enjoyment 
beyond the limits prescribed by nature, we frustrate our 
own purpose." * 

A habit of strict and uniform self-control, in all par- 
ticulars, early formed and maintained through life, is 
among the greatest of earthly blessings. It is at the basis 
of all other virtues, and the most important element of suc- 
cess in every calling. Health, cheerfulness, vigor of mind, 
purity of desire, efficiency, long and useful life, are its 
natural attendants. " He that striveth for the mastery is 
temperate in all things^ 

SELF-DEFENCE. 

Some ultra-moralists have pushed the doctrine of for- 
bearance to the extreme of non-resistance. The precept 
of Christ, " Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, 
turn to him the other also," which was obviously designed 
to inculcate a meek and forbearing sj^irit^ they have in- 
terpreted by the letter / so as to deny even the right of 
personal self-defence. 

"We are admonished that the " letter hilleth^ but the 
spirit giveth life." That it was not the intention of Christ 
to deny the right in question, and that it is not only a 
right but a duty^ is manifest from the following facts : 

* Stewart, Active and Moral Powers, p. 11. 



I 



376 MOKAL PniLOSOPITY. 

1. Oiir Saviour himself and his disciples have set us 
the example of self-defence. They defended themselves 
not only by fleeing from danger, by rebutting malicious 
attacks upon their character, and by prudently thwarting 
the designs of their enemies, but by actually arming 
themselves with deadly weapons, having reference to 
any emergency in which self-protection might require 
them.* 

2. Self-defence is dictated by an instinct of our na- 
ture. All of our constitutional impulses have designs, 
which we have no right to frustrate. That one which re- 
spects personal safety and welfare, is as clearly marked 
and certain as any principle of our nature. 

3. Every person is the constituted guardian of him- 
self. His life and happiness are more important to him 
than to any other being; for this reason they are placed 
primarily in his own hands. ITo fellow-being can do for 
him what he can do for himself Every person is a dis- 
tinct centre of thought and power, whose first object natu- 
rally is his personal safety and happiness. 

It is a man's duty to defend his person^ his property, 
and his reputation. 

In case of a surprise, as when met by an assassin or 
robber, he must take his protection, at once, into his own 
hands. He must defend himself, if need be, at the risk 
of the aggressor's life. If either is to be put to death, it 
should evidently be the one who deserves it. He who 
1^ ^ Shrinks from self-defence, in such an emergency, is a 

^ coward, and must suffer a coward's deserts. Such cow- 

ardice is self-desertion ; and, if universal, would leave no 
adequate protection to human life. 

In all cases admitting the intervention of law, resort 

* See Matth. 2 : 13. John 8 : 40-59. Luke 22 : 36. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 37T 

should be had to it. For such cases the law was made. 
He who does the duties of a good citizen, and pays his 
tax to support government, is entitled to the law's pro- 
tection. But if he snatches from the hands of law what 
government has placed in them, he becomes himself a 
culprit. The man who, impatient of revenge, takes the 
life of a murderer under trial, is himself a murderer ; and 
the law justly holds him guilty. 

What we have said of the defence of life, is equally 
applicable to the defence oi property. Robbery and theft 
may sometimes call for personal and direct resistance ; 
but fraud, deception, forgery, &c., should be met by a 
legal process. 

When reputation is attacked by falsehood that cannot 
be exposed without resort to law, the injured party may 
himself expose it. He is under no obligation to incur the 
expense of a court, nor to allow his reputation to suffer for 
a single day, to await the slow process of law. To ex- 
pose falsehood, deceit, or any kind of crime, where per- 
sonal protection or the public welfare demands it, is mor- 
ally right. 

But when the attack is of a nature to be more success- 
fully repelled by a legal process, such a process should be 
had. Attacks upon personal and professional reputation 
involve so many particulars, and such various kinds of 
evidence, as to render defence impracticable, except by a 
severe legal investigation. 

In what cases an injured man should resort to law, it 
is the business of a candid counsellor to decide. Personal 
feelings and comparative ignorance of law, usually ren- 
der men incompetent judges in their own cause. He who 
goes intg court against wise counsel, for the benefit of his 
good name, usually comes out with his name little if any 
improved. 



378 



MOEAL PHILOSOPHT. 



A barbarous metbod of self-defence is tbat of duelling. 
Its foUj is manifest in tbe fact, tbat it does notbing to- 
wards determining wbicb party was originally in tbe 
wrong. It adduces no evidence ; it settles no question ; 
it passes no judgment. 

Can we believe tbat tbe God of beaven interposes a 
miracle to settle a question of innocence or guilt in tbis 
way ? It was once supposed tbat be does ; and bence 
tbe origin of duels. Tbey were a bold appeal to God. 
But tbat profane notion bas passed away ; tbe ligbt of 
Cbristianity condemns it. All enligbtened minds bave 
discarded tbe belief tbat Providence teacbes us trutb and 
duty tbus. 

Tbe result of a duel decides only, wbicb of tbe parties 
could bold tbe firmest band and aim tbe deadliest blow ; 
wbile tbe acceptance of a cballenge only proves, tbat all 
tbe folly and guilt were not confined to one side. It is to 
be boped, for tbe bonor of bumanity, tbat tbis stupid 
metbod of self-defence will soon be among tbe monstrous 
tbings tbat have leen. 



SELF-PTJETTY. 



Tbis includes tbe cardinal virtue of cbastity, and is it- 
self involved in tbe duty of self-control. But it implies 
purity of imagination and feeling, as well as tbe control 
of appetite. It is to tbe former tbat I now particularly 
refer. ISTo virtue is more essentia^ to personal welfare. 
Wben once tbe desires to wbicb a vile imagination gives 
rise bave become a mental babit, a dark prospect opens 
to tbe imbappy victim. 

1. His hody suffers. Insidious nervous affections in- 
vade it, tending to debility and early deatb. IJiis con- 
nection between tbe vice and its effects may not be im- 
mediate and perceptible, but it is sure. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 379 

2. His intellect suffers. The calamity usually falls 
more heavily upon the intellect than upon the body. The 
fine prospects of many youths at school have thus been 
blighted, by causes eluding the most vigilant guardian- 
ship. Listlessness, aversion to mental effort, feebleness 
of memory, the want of resolution and perseverance, are 
among the most significant attendants of the vice in ques- 
tion. Parents and teachers labor in vain to ennoble the 
intellect that is debased by lust. 

3. The heart suffers. The amiable affections, which 
render husbands and wives, parents and children, neigh- 
bors and associates, happy in their mutual relations and 
duties, are vitiated and impaired. Lust and love, al- 
though they seem often to approach each other, and al- 
most to unite, are yet mutual enemies. Their antagonism 
increases as they approximate. When the one is habit- 
ually harbored, the other is habitually excluded. The 
one is benevolent, the other is selfish ; the one is from 
above, the other from beneath. 

4. Reason herself is sometimes dethroned. A large 
portion of the victims of lunacy and idiocy, in the asy- 
lums of both continents, have been brought there, as sta- 
tistics prove, by the vices in question. But where one 
person passes to the extremity and becomes a public ex- 
ample, hundreds suffer and perish on the way. Their 
vices live and die mostly in their own bosoms. Multi- 
tudes enfeeble their health, impair their mental vigor, 
curtail their usefulness, diminish their substantial enjoy- 
ments, and shorten their lives, by vices which only the 
light of eternity will reveal. 

The Scriptm^es are very explicit in condemnation of all 
impurity. !No judgments are heavier, no penalties more 
severe, than those which they pronounce against this vice. * 

* See Prov. 5 : 3-29. 7 : 5-26. GaL 5 : 19-25. Matth. 5 : 27-32. Lev. 
10 : 22. Col. 5 : 6. 



380 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The following are the rules by which to preserve self- 
purity : 

1. ]^ever allow the imagination to form impure images, 
or to dwell upon scenes calculated to excite the sensual 
passions. 

2. ^NTever frequent those kinds of theatrical or other 
amusements, which tend to defile the imagination and in- 
flame the lust of pleasure. 

3. Avoid all those books whose chief attraction is that 
they excite and please the mind, at the expense of en- 
feebling and debauching it. 

4. Discard all such pictures, however beautiful and 
fascinating, as tend to enkindle impure feelings. There 
are enough in the great world of fine arts, without them. 

5. Lend no ear to conversation or songs of an impure 
character. Every person who would protect his purity, 
must guard the avenues to his mind through the ear as 
well as the eye. 

6. Never associate with lewd company. A person is 
not only Icnown by the company he keeps, but he is mor- 
ally made by it. The young person who associates with 
vile company, will surely be drawn into the vortex, and 
go with them to destruction. 

1. Most important of all, he ever interested and erv- 
gaged in some worthy occwpation. This is the most suc- 
cessful antagonism to vice of every kind. He who has 
on hand enough good work to do, and is intent on doing 
it, has no time to foster and gratify a wanton imagination. 
His tastes and pleasures are too elevated and inspiring to 
assort with grovelling and vicious desires. 

Such are rules for keeping the mind pure. Kor let 
it be thought trifling with our subject, if, in the same con- 
nection, we speak of purity of tody. Cleanliness is more 
than mere decency ; it is a virtue. The want of it is more 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 381 

than vulgarity ; it is a vice. God enjoined upon a people 
under his special care, the strictest observances with re- 
ference to their cleanliness. There is an intimate connec- 
tion between purity of body and purity of mind, which 
induced Addison to say, that cleanliness is next to Godli- 
ness. For this reason, the cleansing of the body was by 
the Jews regarded as a part of their needful preparation 
to worship God in his temple. 

ISTot less important is this virtue to hodily health. Many 
of the most loathsome and fatal diseases come of the want 
of cleanliness. Allowing the insensible perspiration to be 
checked, and the free egress of the bodily wastes to be 
prevented by impurities upon the skin, tends to vitiate 
the secretions, injure the blood, impede the circulation, 
and thus impair digestion and invite disease. 

He who would be cleanly, must ordinarily wash his 
entire person daily, at least during the warm seasons ; must 
cleanse his mouth and teeth, after meals and just before 
retiring ; must use the comb and brush sufficiently to keep 
the head and hair clean ; must wear clean apparel, at least 
next to his person, so far as his employment allows ; must 
keep the atmosphere about him as pure as possible, by day 
and by night ; and must abstain from all grossness in eat- 
ing and drinking. He will then have a clean person, 
sweet breath, a pure and wholesome appearance, and will 
usually enjoy good health. He will at least enjoy all the 
better health for his cleanliness, and will be protected 
against infectious diseases. 

SELF-PEOVmiNG. 

It is the duty of every person, so far as he can, io pro- 
vide for his temporal wa/nts. This requires industry and 
frugality. 



MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Indcstey. — ^That industry which is prompted by in- 
stinct in brutes, is dictated by forethought in man. The 
whole irrational creation, down to the humble ant, teaches 
us the lesson of industry. '' Go to the ant, thou sluggard, 
consider her ways o/nd he wise, which, having no guide, 
overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and 
gathereth her food in the harvest." " Seest thou a man 
diligent in business ? He shall stand before kings." " The 
hand of the diligent maketh rich." 

We are commanded to be " not slothful in husinessP 
Let the habits of industry be early formed, so that labor 
itself becomes a delight, and the foundation is laid for 
success in any calling. 

Fkugalitt. — Benjamin Franklin, by his lessons and 
example of frugality, did much to make the people of 
this rising republic what they have been in enterprise, 
thrift, and wealth. But his lessons seem to have become 
a dead letter. A greater benefit could scarcely be con- 
ferred upon us than to revive them. The " hard times," 
of which h© wi'ote and furnished the cure, are perpetually 
recurring, and the same remedy is ever demanded. To the 
industrious and frugal man, all times are easy. His wants 
are few, his resources abundant, his cup always full. 

Wealth and independence are terms indicating not the 
quantity jpossessed^ but the quantity needed. Were all 
children and youth, especially all persons setting forth 
upon the responsibilities of business and family connec- 
tions, accustomed to habits of reasonable frugality, those 
disasters termed " failures " would be very few. Broken 
fortunes, broken hearts, want, despair, would be almost 
unknown. 

All young families who have their fortunes to make, 
should adopt the rule of reserving a margin of at least one 
fourth of their earnings, to accumulate for future increased 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 383 

wants. If tlieir earnings are eight hundred dollars a year, 
they should reserve two hundred to be on interest; if 
their earnings are two thousand, they should reserve five 
hundred. They will then never fail ; and will be able to 
educate their children. The same frugality will enable 
them to contribute to benevolent objects. Frugality, not 
luxury, is the parent of beneficence. 

Prevailing frugality among a people is one of the 
strongest pillars of national safety. So long as men enjoy 
the abundance which frugality imparts, they are content 
with their government, and combine to uphold it. But 
when luxury begins to produce enervation, want, im- 
patient lust, and daring recklessness, the foundations of 
government tremble. The early period of a nation is the 
o"^e in which the people are fi'ugal and thrifty, and of 
course patriotic ; the middle is the one in which the 
children, inheriting abundance, are less frugal and more 
self-indulgent ; the final period is that of prevailing lux- 
ury, effeminacy, and bankruptcy, in which law and judg- 
ment are swept from the land by the surges of anarchy. 

The remedy for all this is to be found only in the con- 
scientious distribution of wealth to the various benevolent 
objects suggested by Christian benevolence, and in the 
perpetual inculcation and practice of the stern virtues of 
industry and frugality. 

SELF-CIJLTIJEE. 

When a man duly respects, controls, and defends him- 
self, when he keeps himself pure, and provides for his 
wants, he thus far does well. But if he stops here, he 
leaves the most important duties to himself undone. He 
ought to cultivate his mind. There is a mine of wealth 
within him to be developed. He will be mentally great 



384: MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

or small, poor or rich, according to the culture which he 
bestows upon himself. 

It is a great practical error of this age, that mental 
culture is so much sought with reference only to business 
and gain. These are subordinate aims, and the culture 
which respects only these, is low and vulgar. Men of 
only this culture have no inward resources. As soon as 
they retire from business with a competency they become 
unhappy. Having reached the condition most favorable 
to repose, dignity, intellectual pursuits, rational greatness, 
and influence, they expose a wretched poverty of intellect 
by their incapacity for enjoyment. 

Mental culture is not necessarily restricted to profes- 
sional men. Eminent attainments have been made by 
men of various callings. Benjamin Franklin was a 
printer ; George "Washington was a farmer ; Hugh R. Mil- 
ler was a mason. Let a young person firmly resolve on 
self-culture, and a systematic and persevering application 
of his leisure time will insui-e the result. 

He must be systematic. Talents of a very humble 
order, systematically employed, have achieved wonders. 
A methodical and exact distribution of time and duties, 
can scarcely fail of splendid results. A man of thorough 
system is seldom in a hurry, because he has a time for all 
things. He rises early, and keeps time and duties ever 
before him. 

Few men, in the tug of life, can secure any other por- 
tions of time for self-culture than mornings and evenings. 
Of these, the morning is usually the brightest and best. 
With many it is the only time of which they can be sure. 
By rising early, they can usually appropriate two hours in 
the morning to languages, science, history, philosophy, 
and other severe studies, which discipline the mind and 
give it command and reach of thought. Tlie evenings 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 385 

may then be devoted to lighter studies and amusements, 
and to the entertainment of friends. 

Men distinguished for self-culture have been usually 
very systematic in the use of time, and have been early 
risers. Such were Plato, Socrates, Julius Caesar, Martin 
Luther, E'ewton, Milton, La Place, E'apoleon, Franklin, 
Webster, and many others scarcely less renowned. 

But there must be withal perseverance. It is not the 
effort of a month, or of a year, that will suffice. l!Tothing 
truly great and valuable comes but of steady and prolonged 
labor. We are in a world of conflict. The avenue to 
every object worth seeking is beset with difficulties. 
Every man should lay his account with these, and nerve 
his spirit to press valiantly through them. Perseverance 
will succeed at last ; and when the result is realized, it 
will be the more valuable for the conflict. 

Let a young man pm^sue this course, and twenty years 
will show an amazing difference between him and the 
man who has neglected it. K then favored with a com- 
petency, and disposed to retire from active business, he 
will be at no loss how to dispose of his time, or where to 
find enjoyment. His own mind and his library will be to 
him a source of unfaiHng pleasure. He will also be able 
to command and to honor posts of public office and gen- 
eral usefulness, by which he can confer distinguished and 
lasting benefits upon mankind. 

SELF-SAL VATIOl?". 

Man has more than body and intellect to care for. 
He has also more than a merely moral nature. He has a 
spiritual nature, a soul / to provide for the eternal well- 
being of which, is transcendently the most important of all 
self-duties. So far as duty to himself is concerned, this 
17 



386 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

is first, midst, and last ; it absorbs and controls all others, 
If the object of this duty is lost, all is lost. "For what 
shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world and 
lose his own soul y or what shall a man give in exchange 
for his soul f " 

We were not placed here to provide merely for these 
few moments of time, but for everlasting ages. "We were 
made to look forward, indefinitely forward; to provide 
for the future, the eternal future. The man who restricts 
his vision of the future, and aims at providing for only a 
limited period, is false to his rational nature. ISTor does it 
answer for him to say, that he will provide for himself up 
to a given point, to the point where his sensuous vision 
terminates, and risk what lies beyond. This is precisely 
what God has commanded him not to do, on peril of being 
in the end denounced as " a fool." '^ He is to look after 
the interests of the soul, with the eye of the soul ; and that 
eye loohs heyond time^ eternally onward. 

The brute, having only an animal and corruptible na- 
ture, heeds only the present state ; but man, having a ra- 
tional and immortal nature, does and must think of eter- 
nity. Eternity is the appropriate centre of his thoughts, 
the home of his spirit ; there^ and there only^ may he lay 
uj> his treasures. 

The means of securing his eternal salvation are re- 
vealed in the Scriptures, and a full consideration of them 
belongs to religious teaching. Moral philosophy conducts 
us to this point, and here leaves us ; with the obligation 
resting upon every individual, as his first and highest self- 
duty^ to secure his spiritual worthiness and his everlasting 
bliss in heaven. 

* Luke 12 : 20. 



CHAPTEK ni. 



CONJUGAL DUTIE 



The conjugal relation is indicated by Christ in tlie follow- 
ing words : " Have ye not read that he which made them 
in the beginning made them male and female, and said, 
For this cause a man shall leave father and mother^ and 
shall cleave to his wife / and they twain shall be one flesh. 
Wherefore they are no more twain^ hut one fleshP This is 
then the most intimate and endearing of all earthly rela- 
tions. It even transcends that of the parent and child. 
There is no other relation which makes the parties so em- 
phatically ''one fleshy The duties of this relation require, 

1. Union of afl^ection. — Unless the parties are imited 
in affection before they become so in law, they act in op- 
position to the spirit of the institution. To marry from 
motives of distinction, pride, wealth, or mere sensual 
pleasure, is to perpetrate a flagrant moral wrong. Few 
crimes receive more severe and protracted recompense 
than false-hearted marriage vows. 

When the parties are married, they proclaim to the 
world that they love each other more than they love any 
other human being. The necessity for this affection is 
obvious. They cannot be happy in each other without it. 



388 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ITothing else can be substituted. They may acquire 
wealth and distinction ; they may build and furnish fine 
houses, and plant beautiful gardens ; they may ride in 
elegant coaches, and give and receive luxurious entertain- 
ments ; but all this, without true conjugal affection, is 
splendid wretchedness. The parties have frustrated the 
benevolent design of the marriage covenant, they have 
solemnly proclaimed to God and to the world an awful 
lie, and they must through life reap their reward in bitter 
and unavailing regret. 

2. Union of interest and rejputation, — ^For purposes of 
convenience, civil laws often make some distinction be- 
tween the property of the wife and that of the husband ; 
but this is with reference to their children, or to the sur- 
viving party. So long as they loth live, whatever is pos- 
sessed by either, should be equally enjoyed by both. 
Their interests are one. The less there is of mine and 
thine between them, the more do they act upon the spirit 
and enjoy the blessings of the marriage covenant. They 
have also a common inheritance of reputation. Any blot 
upon the character of the one, dishonors also the other. 

The prosperity or adversity, glory or shame, weal or 
woe, of either the husband or the wife, is peculiarly and 
intensely shared in common between them. This fact is 
forcibly taught in the following declaration : " And the 
rib which the Lord God had taken from the man he made 
a woman, and brought her to the man. And Adam said. 
This is now lone of my lone, and flesh of my fleshP 
Hence any good or evil befalling the one, befalls also the 
other. 

3. Union of pa/rental affection. — ^This can be secured 
by no other means than the marriage covenant. United 
in the same relation to the same offspring, their affections 
are to flow through the same channels to the same objects. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 389 

Tlius parental love serves to strengthen conjugal love, and 
vice versa. The mutual love of husband and wife is 
usually increased or diminished, in the degree that the 
one sees the other affectionately devoted to the welfare of 
their common offspring. 

4. Union of rega/rd for each other'' s relatives and 
friends. — Being now made one, the parties sustain the 
same relation to each other's kinsmen and associates. The 
parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, and companions of the 
one, become those of the other. Upon these their affec- 
tions must now unite. The wife could scarcely offend 
the husband more, than to disregard his relatives and 
friends ; and the husband could scarcely injure the sensi- 
bilities of the wife more, than to be indifferent to hers. 
Serious alienations and jealousies have sometimes arisen 
between married parties, from want of due consideration 
in this particular. ^ 

5. Union of domestic resjponsihility. — Although every 
one must give an account for himself, and there is an in- 
dividual responsibility which can never be divided with 
another, yet the conjugal union involves a most weighty 
one, which must be borne in common by both the parties. 
E'either can say. This is my duty, and that is yours. The 
duty is common to both. They are mutually and equally 
pledged to do all in their power to secure the prudent man- 
agement of their secular interests, the order and peace of 
their households, the right training of their offspring, and 
all those temporal and everlasting benefits, for which the 
domestic constitution was established. One party may 
never attempt to put exclusively upon the other any por- 
tion of this responsibility. They mutually assume it, and 
are equally pledged to sustain it. 

6. Mutual chastity and fidelity. — The parties are 
equally pledged to abstinence from sexual intercourse with 



390 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

any other person, and to the observance of strict chastity. 
A violation of this pledge is the crime of adultery, and is 
a gross trespass upon a natural as well as revealed prin- 
ciple of morality. 'No crime is more loudly condemned 
by the voice of nature and by the Word of God, and upon 
none are inflicted more terrible retributions.* 

RELATIVE POSITION OF THE PAKTIES. 

The following Scripture has been often cited to prove 
that the rights are mostly the husband's, and the duties 
the wife's : " For the man is not of the woman ; but the 
woman of the man. Neither was the man created for the 
woman; but the woman for the man." 

But the context makes it evident that the precedence 
of natural and social position, not of right, is here predi- 
cated of the man. The man is the natural and constituted 
head of the wife, and of the entire household ; but the re- 
lation between them is not that of master and slave. It 
is as much the husband's duty to love, cherish, and honor 
the wife, as it is the wife's duty to love, cherish, and hon- 
or the husband. Tliey are to be one in counsel, delibera- 
tion, judgment, feeling, interest, while the husband is the 
constituted exponent and executor of their united wisdom. 
" E"either is the man without the woman, neither the wo- 
man without the man, in the Lord. For as the woman is 
of the man, even so is the man also of the woman." In 
other words, they are equally important to each other ; 
while their blended and harmonious agency should be 
represented in the appointed head. 

But they are by no means to merge their respective 
identities. Their distinct individuality remains unim- 
paired. Each of them becomes much more, but neither 

* See Heb. 13 : 4. Rev. 21 : 8. Lev. 20 : 10. Matth. 5 : 7. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 391 

of them any tlie less, for tlie union. ISTeither is the wife 
to refer the decision of all matters in her appropriate 
sphere to the husband, any more than the husband is to 
refer the decision of all matters in Ms appropriate sphere 
to the wife. Each, so far as is practicable, should be su- 
preme in his or her appointed sphere, in order to lighten 
the burden of the other. 

Still, questions are sometimes to be decided respecting 
which both have the same concern, and on which they 
are liable to differ. They are questions which practical y 
respect the business, the safety, the happiness, of both 
alike, and yet they cannot unite in opinion upon them. 
What then ? As to mere opinion, they should " agree to 
differ ; " but as to action, the husband must finally decide. 

Yet the wife should never be urged into circumstances 
of danger, or compelled to resist her fears, unless there is 
obviously greater danger in any other course. She may, 
through fear, refuse to leave the sinking ship and take 
the life-boat, and the husband may see this to be the 
only escape for her ; in that case he must not regard her 
fears, but her safety. In all ordinary cases, however, the 
fears of '' the weaker vessel " should be sacredly regarded. 
The dashing steed that just delights the iron nerves of 
man, is often a terror to the gentler sex ; and the sensi- 
tive nerves, so instinctive of danger, usually suggest the 
safer and wiser course. 

In all cases, if a truly conjugal spirit rules, the point 
will seldom be reached at which the husband's " autho- 
rity " will be demanded. Long before arriving at that 
issue, the wife will give the preference to the opinions and 
wishes of the husband ; while the gentle expression of her 
own, even in matters of the greatest moment, will not fail 
to be by him gratefully received, and perhaps adopted. 
To decide, at last, is his ; but to guide, assist, and sustain 



392 



MORAL PHTT.OSOPHY. 



the decision, is hers. Their duties and privileges are thus 
equal, although modified to their respective sexes and 
positions. 

DUTIES OF THE HUSBAND TO THE WIEE. 

1. He is bound to jprovide for her. He has no right 
to marry without some reasonable prospect of having a 
comfortable home for his wife. For h im she leaves father 
and mother. He takes her from the home of her child- 
hood, to possess a home of his own procuring. And the 
home which he provides should have some reference to 
that which she leaves. It may not be as elegant ; for 
those setting out in life must not ordinarily expect what 
years of toil procure ; but it should be adapted to her pre- 
vious habits and culture. If through indolence or impro- 
vidence he neglects to provide her a suitable home and 
support, he is false to his vow, and forfeits claim to her 
affection. " If any provide not for his own, and especial- 
ly for those of his own household, he hath denied the 
faith, and is worse than an infidel." * 

2. He should jprotect her person. He should watch 
over her health, comfort, and safety. He should never 
require her to live in situations to which her constitution 
is not adapted. He should impose upon her no cares, 
and subject her to no avoidable burdens and anxieties, 
which tend to impair her vigor or shorten her days. He 
should cherish and protect her as the prudent man would 
his own life, always placing himself between her and 
harm. 

Even if disposed himself to encounter dangers, he has 
no right needlessly to subject his wife to them. She has 
a personal right to her own safety, which the marriage 

* 1 Tim. 5 : 8. 



b 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 393 

VOW does not impair ; and hence, if her fears prevail, he 
is bound to regard them. The rash husband, by disre- 
garding the prudent fears of his wife, has sometimes been 
the unmeaning cause of her death. 

3. He should treat her with delicacy and respect. It 
is said that "familiarity breeds contempt." And so it 
certainly does, unless strict delicacy is observed. Hence 
the husband should endeavor always to practise the same 
delicacy of conduct towards his wife which he did before 
they were married. The same delicate courtesy that won 
her affections and esteem, should retain them. Famil- 
iarity may contribute to ease and freedom between them, 
but must never be allowed to degenerate to rudeness. 

4. He should also treat her hindly and affectionately. 
He should never wound her feelings by unkind remarks, 
or ill-natured rebukes ; especially he should avoid speak- 
ing of her faults in the presence of others. He should 
relieve her anxieties respecting servants, table, wardrobe, 
and other domestic matters, and render them all easy to 
bear, by his manifested satisfaction. He should be slow 
to complain and quick to commend. 

He should consider her temperament, education, and 
early life, and make due allowances for them. He should 
never interfere with the proper development of her 
natural or acquired gifts. K she has genius, taste, or 
skill, qualifying her to succeed in any department of 
literature or of art, he should generously encourage it. 
He should endeavor to anticipate all her reasonable wants, 
and to animate all her just endeavors. 

He should not bestow upon her grudgingly, or compel 
her to come to him begging for money, but consider that 
her purse has a right to be filled as well as his. She may 
not wish to tell him all her wants, any more than he may 
wish to tell her his. She may desire to surprise her hus- 
17* 



394 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

band by appearing in a new di-ess, or by making him a 
beautiful present ; or she may have charitable obj ects in 
view. It is not for him to inquire why she needs the 
money, but to see that she has it. His attention to her 
should never be ostentatious, nor more marked in public 
than in private. This will disgust a sensible wife, as well 
as others who witness it. His devotion should be ever 
the same hearty, noiseless, self-sacrificing endeavor to 
secure her highest welfare and happiness. 

" Husbands^ love your wives ^ and he not hitter against 
themy " Love your wives, even as Christ also loved the 
Church, and gave himself for it,^'' * As Christ loves 
the Church, and tenderly protects her as the apple of his 
eye, so ought the husband to love and cherish his wife. 

5. He should be especially attentive to her in sichness. 
When suffering with pain, disease, languor, she natur- 
ally looks to her dearest earthly friend for sympathy and 
relief. She should never look in vain. She may be ner- 
vous, impatient, unreasonable ; but he must bear with 
these infirmities, and sympathize with her imagined as 
well as real sicknesses. Most of them are real, and severer 
than the husband has ever supposed. To complain of her 
sufferings is not the usual way of woman. To suffer on 
in silence, to bear with uncomplaining submission, is her 
common habit. 

The brightest examples of conjugal fidelity have 
sometimes been furnished by men of the highest standing 
in their professions, who have resigned honorable stations 
and lucrative business to bestow all their time and atten- 
tions upon their suffering wives. Disease had laid its 
hand upon the objects dearer to them than fame or 
wealth. For anxious weeks and months they travelled 

* Col. 3:19. Eph. 5^:25. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 395 

with them and watched over them, leaving no means 
untried to heal or mitigate their diseases, until the final 
mandate came. At no time does the conjugal affection 
appear more beautiful than in seasons of sickness. 

6. He should sacredly regard her spiritual welfare. 
If he loves her with a true affection, he will desire and 
seek the welfare of her soul. His views may differ from 
hers, but he is bound to respect hers as sacredly as he 
does his own. He may seek to enlighten her conscience, 
if he thinks her in error ; this he is bound to do ; but he 
must never attempt to control it. She is personally 
responsible as well as he. He should, if possible, provide 
for her the place of worship which she most approves, 
allow her to make such a profession of religion as accords 
with her sense of duty, and always treat her religious 
sentiments with tenderness and respect. 

This much, at least, the marriage covenant binds him 
to do. But if a believer in Christianity and moved by its 
spirit, he will do more. He will make her the subject of 
his daily prayers, and will labor to cause all the events of 
joy and of sorrow through which they may be called to 
pass, the means of leading her spirit to God and securing 
its eternal rest and glory in heaven. " What hiowest 
thou^ husband^ whether thou shall save thy wife ? " 



DUTIES OF THE WIFE TO THE HUSBAND. 

The duties of the wife are correlative to those of the 
husband, being modified by the difference of her sphere. 
K he is the leading head of the family, she is to be the 
" help meet for him." 

1. She should assist him in providing. If it is the 
duty of the husband to provide for the wife, it is no less 
her duty to cooperate with him, and thus do all in her 



396 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

power to relieve liis task. It was never intended that 
the husband should bear alone the burden of supporting 
the household. The wife is morally bound to help him. 
Failure in this duty will bring its appropriate punishment. 
" Many a man has failed to succeed in life," says a blunt 
but truthful writer, " because his wife, instead of being a 
help meet^ was only a help eat^ K there are particular 
duties in providing for the family appropriate to his 
sphere, so there are others appropriate to Tiers ; and the 
neglect of either may prove equally fatal to their common 
interest. 

2! She should ada/pt herself to his eirGumstances and 
calling. Her wants must be graduated by his means. 
An ambitious wife and a poor husband make an imhappy 
match. She must consider this beforehand, and resolve 
on contentment. She did not wed a house, or a garden, 
or a luxurious table, or a fine dress ; she wedded a hus- 
hand. And if his means are humble, she should cheer- 
fully conform to them. She has probably heard of " love 
in a cottage ;" she now has a chance to taste its sweets. 

The wife of a poor husband should practise industry, 
frugality, and economy, with untiring vigilance ; but if 
her husband is rich, she may have more regard to adorn- 
ment. To render home elegant and attractive, to make 
it an abode of hospitality, and to abound in deeds of per- 
sonal kindness and charity to the poor, will then enter 
more largely into the sphere of her duties. The wives of 
rich men may thus impart true value to wealth, and 
make it an ornament to their possessors and a blessing to 
the world. 

3. She should look well to the ways of her household. 
She should anticipate the wants of her husband, and see 
that all things pertaining to his wardrobe, apartments, 
and home-comforts, are duly arranged. She should have 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 397 

the same eye of vigilance to the wants of the family, and 
to the comfort and happiness of guests. She should seek 
to prevent waste, to have every thing in its right time 
and place, and to diffuse an air of grace and comfort over 
the house. She should be prompt to every emergency ; 
ready to rise early, sit up late, or make unusual efforts, 
when demanded by special calls upon her husband's 
time. Presiding thus with generous heart and queenly 
grace over the household, she will make home what 
heaven designed it to be, the paradise of earth. 

" Teach the young women to be sober, to love their 
husbands^ to love their children / to he discreet^ chaste^ 
'keepers at home^ good^ obedient to their own husbcmds / 
that the word of God be not blasphemed." ^ " Who can 
find a virtuous woman ? for her price is far above rubies. 
The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that 
she shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good 
and not evil all the days of her life. She seeketh wool 
and flax, and worketh diligently with her hands. She is 
like the merchant's ships ; she bringeth her food from 
afar. She riseth while it is yet night, and givetli meat 
to her household, and a portion to her maidens. — She 
stretcheth out her hand to the poor ; yea, she stretcheth 
out her hands to the needy. She looketh well to the 
ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idle- 
ness. Her children arise up and call her blessed ; her 
husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have 
done virtuously, but thou excellest them all." 

4. She should endeavor to retain and increase his 
satisfaction in her personal attractions. To this end, she 
should always continue to be as neat and tasteful in dress, 
as modest, dignified, and graceful in manners, as when 

*Tit. ii: 4,6. 



398 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

she first won his affection. She should furnish him no 
ground for disappointment. If she cannot continue to 
command the charms of personal beauty, she can exhibit 
what is more valuable, the graces of an amiable temper, 
and of a pure and benevolent heart. 

If she would not disgust her husband, and prove her- 
self unworthy of his affection and unable to retain it, she 
must never indulgQ jealousy. She must be generous and 
confiding. She must rejoice to have others share with 
her all proper attentions from him, and to have him enjoy 
their society as well as hers. Few things are more offen- 
sive even to the casual observer, than that exclusive 
devotion of the married pair to each other, which pro- 
claims their affection to be narrow, sensual, and selfish. 

She must be submissive. " Wives, submit yourselves 
unto your own hushands, as is fit in the Lord.^^ This is 
not a servile submission, but such as is " fit," that is, 
hecoming. It should be the cheerful and graceful sub- 
mission of a confiding heart. She should understand his 
disposition, and be indulgent to his infirmities. If supe- 
rior to him in talent or culture, she should guard against 
appearing conscious of it. If he is sometimes petulant or 
ill-natured, she should not reproach him, but leave him 
to reproach himself in silence. A spirited and high-minded 
husband cannot be safely rebuked by his wife. Indeed 
she would soon despise him if he allowed it. There is a 
mingling of chivalrous pride in his affection for her, 
which may be turned into hate and bitterness by indis- 
creet rebukes. 

5. She should he especially devoted to him in trouble 
and in sickness. Reverses of fortune may overtake him. 
He may lose his property, or his business ; or his repu- 
tation may be assailed ; but so long as his wife stands by 
his side, cheerful, resolute, hopeful, he can still act the 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 399 

man. He has the '^ help meet for him." In some in- 
stances men have felt more than compensated for the 
severest losses by the noble character thus developed in 
their wives. 

That the husband may be under no temptation to seek 
comfort abroad, and to drown his anxieties amidst scenes 
of dissipation, his wife should be as an angel of light 
and love about him. She should seek to make her own 
society the most agreeable to him, her own table the most 
inviting, her home the most attractive, her fireside enter- 
tainments the most satisfying, of all on earth. If the 
husband of such a wife breaks down under trials, or re- 
sorts to vicious practices, the fault will not be hers. 
Ordinarily he will not. Her endeavors will be crowned 
with i access. Had the wife of Job been such, she would 
not have spoken " as one of the foolish women speaketh," 
and he would not probably have been left to murmur. 

The same principle which should guide the conduct 
of the husband, in the sickness of the wife, should also 
guide hers in the sickness of the husband. Indeed the 
balance of duty here is rather on her side. l!To other 
person can do for her husband in sickness what she can 
do. The affectionate and devoted wife is then physician, 
nurse, friend, comforter ; the ever present angel of love 
and mercy about his pillow. Her presence, sympathy, 
and care, are more precious and important to him than 
those of all the world besides. 

6. She should earnestly seek his spiritual welfare. 
]l^o other person can exert the religious influence upon 
him which she can. If a consistent Christian and devoted 
wife, she may confidently hope that her faithful and per- 
severing instrumentality will be blest to his salvation. 
This hope is expressly encouraged by the highest author- 
ity. " For what knowest thou, O wife^ whether thou shalt 
save thy husband f " 



400 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

God has committed liis spiritual destiny, in an emi- 
nent degree, to her charge. He is immersed in business. 
" The cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, 
and the lusts of other things," press him on all sides. 
She is more withdrawn from the world, and her thoughts 
and sensibilities naturally commune more with religion. 
Hence husbands usually look to their wives for religious 
example, guidance, and encouragement. Even if scepti- 
cal and irreligious themselves, they usually prefer to have 
their wives pious. 

Unless Christianity is a fable, the wife is morally 
bound to make the salvation of her husband, next to her 
own, the most important object of her life. An excellent 
woman, living in the enjoyment of great wealth and 
luxury, was asked what she would give to see her hus- 
band a Christian. " I appreciate these temporal bless- 
ings," was her reply, " and hope I am thankful for them, 
but have often thought that I would gladly exchange 
them all and live in the humblest poverty, for that great- 
est desire and prayer of my heart." She was put to the 
test. He failed in business, and after living two years in 
an obscure cottage, in great poverty, he died. But in the 
mean time he found treasures in heaven, and of this gave 
the brightest evidence. She has often remarked, that 
those two last years were the happiest period of her life. 
Kone who know her can doubt the truth of this ; and 
there are many others, we are sure, who have the same 
spirit. Such are true wives^ in the true sense ; they are 
to their husbands the helps " meet " for them, in the most 
important of all interests. 

CONCLUDING KEMAKKS. 

All of the above duties are deduced from one and the 
same principle^ which is involved in the marriage cove- 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 401 

nant. The parties are pledged to promote their highest 
united and individual welfare. Whatever contributes to 
this, each of the parties is bound to do. 

Let this principle be universally adopted and obeyed, 
and there would be an end to all divorces, and to all 
occasions for them ; an end to all jealousies and conten- 
tions between husband and wife ; and an end, doubtless, 
to three-fourths of the misery that afflicts mankind. All 
families would become nurseries of every thing pure, 
sweet, genial, and the heavenly influences going forth of 
them would, in a great measure, restore the bliss of Eden 
lost by the fall. 

'Nor let it be said that we have set the standard too 
high, and cannot approach it. Christian morality has set 
it where it is, and it cannot be altered. Not a duty have 
we indicated, which both natural and revealed morality 
do not conspire to enjoin. Nor is this all. Many have 
proved by their lives that it can he approached. There 
are at this moment thousands of illustrations of the bless- 
edness of the conjugal union, in which the principle of 
the bond is faithfully regarded, as has been indicated 
above ; nor let us despair of that brighter day, when all 
the families of the earth will become illustrations of the 
same. 






CHAPTEE rV. 



P A K E N T A L DUTIES. 



Next to the conjugal relation the parental is most im- 
portant. On the right discharge of its duties mainly 
depends the welfare of the state and of the church. The 
family is both of these in embryo. 

The duties now to be considered result directly from 
the parental relation. The father and mother 2LrQ j[>arents 
to their child ; that is, as the word imports, the authors 
under God of his existence. Had it not been for them 
he would never have had a being. They hence sustain to 
him the most vital of all relations, and one which no other 
person, in the fullest sense, can sustain. 

PARENTAL AEFECTION. 

Along with the birth, of the child there is also born in 
the hearts of his parents a peculiar affection for him. This 
aftection is strictly the work of God, and always exists 
where nature is not grossly abused. It prompts them to 
do whatever is in their power for his safety and welfare. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 403 

Following the indication of nature, it is plainly their duty 
to cultivate and direct this impulse. They should put it 
in school to conscience, and thus make their happiness and 
their duty one, in paying the precious debt they owe to 
their beloved offspring. 

They should always cherish such an affection for him, 
that the neglect of any duty, however self-sacrificing, to 
promote his welfare, would be to them a greater trial than 
its performance. Tliis is not an affection that idolizes its 
object, and expends itself in fondling and caressing him, 
or in displaying vanity in his dress and appearance ; it 
moves the heart, the lips, the hands, in the faithful use of 
all the appointed means for securing his highest temporal 
and everlasting well-being. Such is true parental love. 
It is perhaps usually found in higher perfection in the 
heart of the mother than of the father, making there 
greater sacrifices and enduring more abuse. It is a union 
of all the elements of moral love animated by the peculiar 
parental feeling. 

PAEEiST^AL GUAEDIAl^SHIP. 

As parents have some practical knowledge of nature's 
laws, of the ways in which they are violated, and the 
dangers to which their violation exposes us, and as the 
child has not this knowledge, parental guardianship is 
one of their first duties. They must watch over his health, 
and guard him from exposure to disease, and from all 
malformations of the limbs and organs. They must 
attend to his diet, clothing, exercise, recreation, and aU 
the means of the symmetrical and perfect development 
and growth of his physical system. 

The child is as ignorant and as heedless of his moral as 
of his physical dangers, and hence parental guardianship 
is not less important in the one case than in the other. 



404 



MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 



The germs of a virtuous or of a vicious character, are 
planted at a period when he is too young to anticipate 
their consequences. His parents must therefore antici- 
pate them for him. They must keep him from vicious 
companions, from the corrupting influence of profanity, 
obscenity, falsehood, deceit, and all base passions, as 
they would from pestilence and death. The child who 
acquires evil habits through their neglect, will be a speedy 
and fearful witness against them. 

PARENTAL GOVERNMENT. 

Parents are bound to govern their child. All rational 
beings are made to be subjects of government, and the 
first natural lawgivers and rulers of the child are his 
parents. Tliey are to form in him those habits of obe- 
dience to rightful authority, which are subsequently to be 
exercised with reference to the State and to the higher 
government of God. There is nothing which they can 
substitute for these. They may give him all the advan- 
tages of wealth, learning, art, society, travel, and refined 
manners ; but if they have not withal taught him to 
" ohey his parents in the Lord^^ they will probably live to 
see their brightest hopes of him blasted. 

Parents should govern their child for the same end that 
God governs us. All their requirements and prohibitions, 
rewards and penalties, should be with a view to his 
welfare. When the apostle says, " we have had fathers 
of our flesh which corrected us, after their own jpleasure^"* 
he tells us what some fathers have done, rather than what 
they ought to have done. Their duty is written thus : 
"And ye fathers, ^w^(?^6 not your children to wrath^ hut 
hring them up in the nurture and admonition of the 
LordP " Provoke not your children to anger lest they 
be discouraged." 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 405 

Parental government shonld therefore be reasonable 
and enlightened. It should never be swayed by blind 
impulse. It should take into view the child's substantial 
welfare, rather than his present indulgence. As it should 
prohibit only where prohibition is necessary, so it should 
indulge only where indulgence is safe. It should also 
study the child's peculiarities of temperament, and aim 
so to touch his hidden springs of action, as to secure 
the most perfect obedience with the least possible resist- 
ance. 

It should also be patient and forbearing. Like the 
government of God, who " maketh his sun to rise on the 
evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on 
the unjust," it should endure " with much long suffering," 
the waywardness and folly of childhood. It seems to 
have been divinely intended that parents should willingly 
endure more from their own children than they would 
from others ; because they have more to do with their 
faults. But patience must never degenerate to weak 
indulgence, nor forbearance to pusillanimity. 

It should be %miform. No parent can well govern 
his child, who does not govern himself. He who is severe 
one day and indulgent the next, chastising and caressing 
according to the caprices of passion, fails to secure either 
obedience or respect. As the Almighty bears forward 
the laws of his government with the same steady hand 
under all provocations from his rebellious children, so 
should earthly parents do, that their children may always 
know assuredly what to expect. Passionate and capri- 
cious government is an inevitable failure. 

It should be efficient. It must maintain its position 
and secure its object. Assuming that filial obedience 
must be secured, or the child will be ruined, it must be, 
like the government of God, firm and persistent unto the 



406 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

end. It must take no denial. The child must be made 
to submit, at all events. It is, however, often expedient 
to allow time for his temper to cool and his reason and 
conscience to operate. The object is thus often wisely 
gained by delay. But ultimately gained it must surely 
be. The child's waywardness must be thoroughly sub- 
dued ; he must be made to realize that his parent is 
entirely in the right, and to yield to him cordial obe- 
dience. 

If no other means are effectual, the rod must be used. 
But it should be used with the due mingling of goodness 
and severity, and yet always with a firmness of decision 
effectual to its end. " He that spareth his rod hateth his 
son ; but he that loveth him chastiseth him hetimes.'''' 

MATNTENAl^rCE. 

Parents are bound to provide maintenance for their 
children. This is evident from the following considera- 
tions: First, children cannot provide for themselves. 
Secondly, the natural provision in the person of the 
mother and her instinctive desire to nourish her offspring, 
indicate the divine will in this particular. Thirdly, the 
natural affection of both the parents prompts them to 
provide for their offspring. Fourthly, it is manifestly 
unjust for them to impose upon others the task of sup- 
porting children, for whose existence they are themselves 
responsible. Finally, the Scriptures expressly assert: 
" If any provide not for his own, and especially for those 
of his own house^ he hath denied the faith, and is worse 
than an infidel." 

Of the natv/re and extent of the maintenance, parents 
are ordinarily the proper judges. The rich parent ought 
to provide for his children more liberally than the poor 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 407 

can. He is bound to give them advantages, according as 
God has given him means. As to food and dress, he 
should do for his children as he does for himself. To live 
in luxury himself, and subject his children to coarse and 
hard fare, is unparental and unjust. Their fare should be 
simple, perhaps more so than his own, but it should be to 
them what his is to him. 

On the other hand, he is bound to guard against 
enervating his children by indulgence. K he has passed 
through early years of hardship, and reached a period 
demanding more repose and indulgence than are best for 
them, lie should give them the advantage of his expe- 
rience. The parent, however wealthy, who brings up his 
children in indolence and pleasure, inflicts an irreparable 
wrong upon them and upon society. 

The age of the child, at which the responsibility of 
the parent to provide and of the child to serve ceases, is 
in this country fixed by law at twenty-one. But the law 
justly provides that the parties may enter into a contract 
at any earlier period, after the child has become capable 
of providing for himself, by which their mutual obliga- 
tions are formally cancelled. The law also provides that 
the parent may give or apprentice his child to another, 
under circumstances favorable to the child's welfare, and 
thus transfer the legal obligation to support him. 

But the onoral obligation of the parent does not cease 
then, nor after the child becomes of age. Their interests 
become then distinct in law, but duty demands of the 
parent, through life, a peculiar regard to his offspring. 
At his death, our law divides his property equally among 
them, abating the widow's portion ; but other relatives 
and objects frequently have demands, for which the law 
cannot specifically provide, thus occasioning the neces- 
sity for a will. In that case the parent, making due pro- 



408 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

vision for other claims, should divide equally with his 
childi'en, unless some defect of intellect or character 
should justify a distinction. A just portion should then 
be so left in trust as to guard against both personal want 
and a public burden. 



PHYSICAL EDUCATION. 

The infant is a feeble and helpless object. Every 
member and every muscle needs to be expanded and 
strengthened. ^N^ature has in a measure provided for 
this, in the ceaseless activity which she prompts. But 
there is also demanded unwearied parental care. Chil- 
dren left to themselves will come to an early end, or grow 
up deformed, feeble, and sickly. 

It is the duty of parents to see that their children 
have wholesome and nourishing food, in suitable quanti- 
ties; that they have regular and appropriate hours of 
sleep ; that they have pure air and regular alternations 
of exercise and repose ; that they are inured to labor, and 
even, with due caution, to hardships ; in a word, to see 
that they are so trained as to enjoy, if possible, symmetri- 
cal, vigorous, enduring bodies. The blessings of good 
health through life depend much upon the parental care 
of childhood. 

Hence parents who bring up their offspring deli- 
cately and indolently, with systems frail and feeble 
through want of due exercise, who pamper their appe- 
tites, thus engendering unnatural desires and incipient 
diseases; and parents who, on the other hand, impose 
crushing burdens or unsuitable tasks upon them, or con- 
fine them in bad air, or give them unwholesome food ; 
inflict an injury upon them, beyond the power of gold 
or of tears to recall. A large portion of the deaths among 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 



409 



children, and many of tlie diseases which follow those 
through life who survive, are due to the want of right 
physical training. 



INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 

The infant brings with him into the world the embryo 
powers of acquisition, but no innate ideas. All that he 
ever knows must be learned. His powers of acquisition 
were given him to be used; in other words, he was 
designed to be educated. Education is as needful for his 
mind, as food and clothing are for his body; and the 
duty of providing for both devolves upon the parents. 

The only question here has respect to the extent of 
parental responsibility. The general principle is this: 
The parent is bound to do what he can for the intellectual 
culture of his children, consistently with his other duties. 
Some can do much more than others ; all can do some- 
thing. ^Nothing can justify parental neglect in this 
important matter. He who thinks to substitute wealth 
for education, or who, from motives of avarice, indolence, 
or pleasure, allows his children to grow up in ignorance, 
perpetrates a wrong for which there is no redemption. 

The following rules are here obligatory upon parents : 

1. They should make the education of their children 
2i prominent object. They should have an eye to it in 
choosing their employment, selecting their place of resi- 
dence, regulating their expenses, and disposing of their 
time. The question whether they shall live in town or 
country, whether they shall acquire more property or 
less, whether their house and furniture shall be elegant 
or plain, whether their table shall be abundant or simple, 
is of small moment, compared with the question whether 
their children shall be well or badly educated. 
18 



410 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

2. They should endeavor to provide for them the 
l)est teachers. Some parents are prompted by avarice to 
employ the cheapest teachers ; others, by pride, to employ 

~ the dearest; others, by a grovelling ambition, to send 
their children to 2i fashionable school. Yerily they have 
their reward. Bnt better is the reward of those who, 
moved by a wise conviction of duty, seek for their chil- 
dren those teachers who will give them the most thorough 
and efficient mental culture. As nothing can repair the 
loss occasioned by superficial and unfaithful teaching, so 
scarcely any price is too great to reward that teaching 
which is what it should be. 

3. They should, as far as possible, have 2i personal eye 
to the education of their children. So far as their time 
and qualifications allow, they should themselves teach 
them. All parents of ordinary attainments can do this 
to some extent. They thus encourage their children to 
learn by leading the way. They inspirit them by their 
example, as the successful husbandman does his workmen 
by putting his own hand to the plough. "Whatever deeply 
interests parents is wont to interest their children. But 
when the child sees his parents attaching no practical 
value to his hard and dry lessons, and devoting all their 
evenings to light reading and amusements, he naturally 
imbibes their spirit and follows their example. 

Let parents gather at evening with their children 
around the table, let them enter into their difficulties and 
their triumphs, let them thus show that they attach real 
importance to their studies, and the effect upon their 
endeavors will be most happy. They will also thus 
become acquainted with their several aptitudes, and learn 
how to direct their course in life. 

4. They should adapt the education of their children 
to their vo/rious talents. Up to a certain period, the edu- 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 4:11 

cation of all cliildren must be nearly the same. But 
beyond the common rudiments, a wide field opens, in 
which the course should be directed by a wise regard to 
natural genius and bent of inclination. Parents should 
seek to ascertain in what calling their children are most 
likely to excel, and to direct their education accordingly. 
The child who is sent to college, or into the army, or 
placed in a store, or even upon a farm, against his pre- 
vailing inclination, is almost sure to encounter failure. 
Happy is the child who learns in season what calling he 
was made for, and happy are the parents who guide his 
steps into it. 

MOKAL AND RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 

Some have argued that parents ought not to mould 
the character and faith of their child, maintaining that he 
should be left to do it for himself on his own responsi- 
bility. It might as reasonably be argued that they 
should neglect the care of his body and his intellect. Is 
a deformed limb or a feeble memory more to be dreaded 
than a bad character? A wise man said: "Train up a 
child in the way he should go, and when he is old he 
will not dejpa/rt from it." Another has added, with 
scarcely less of truth : " Train up a child in the way he 
would go^ and when he is old he will probably he TiangedP 

But it is said that parents may be themselves in error, 
and may thus mislead their children. So they may mis- 
take respecting their physical and intellectual training. 
But is this a good reason for neglecting it ? ISTo. God 
has laid upon parents the obligation to train tip their 
children in the way they should go. If it is their duty to 
attend to their physical and intellectual culture, it is no 
less their duty to " bring them up in the nurture and ad- 
monition of the Lord." 



412 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



The following rules indicate the duties of parents to 
their children in this particular. 

1. Thej should inculcate ujDon them their own convic- 
tions of truth and duty. They should also see to it, that 
those to whom they commit their instruction do not teach 
them otherwise. Parents are responsible not only for what 
they themselves teach their children, but for what they 
allow others to teach them. The parent who believes 
intoxication injurious to the body, or frivolous reading 
injurious to the intellect, and yet permits an instructor to 
teach his children otherwise, is no less guilty of parental 
neglect than he who believes the profanation of the Sab- 
bath to be injurious to morals and religion, and yet allows 
their instructor to teach them to profane it. 

But there is a limit to this authority. The law pre- 
sumes children to be, after the age of twenty-one, as 
capable of directing their moral and spiritual as their 
secular interests. Before this period, the authority of 
parents may be exercised ; after this, only the influence 
of their counsel and love. But their authority should never 
be sharp, severe, imperious, so as to leave no play for the 
personal judgment and conscience of their children. And 
as children advance towards seniority, parents should 
gradually relax their authority over them, and thus by 
degrees place them upon their own responsibility. In 
this way there will be no sudden break or jar in their 
course, but they will pass imperceptibly upward from the 
dependence of childhood to the independence of man- 
hood. 

2. Parents should give to their children the henefit of 
their exarrvple. No other teaching is so explicit and effec- 
tive as this. Their children may not apprehend the force 
of their reasoning, but they will feel the power of their ex- 
ample. Although parents teach and pray like saints, they 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 413 

will avail little without consistent lives. On the other 
hand, a few words of judicious instruction, attended with 
the influence of a pure and bright example, will fall into 
the balances of their children like pounds of shining gold. 

When children see the law of love and of justice reign- 
ing in the hearts of their parents ; when they see in them 
benignity and gentleness blending with firmness and deci- 
sion ; when they see them strictly truthful in all they say, 
and faithful to all their engagements ; when they hear from 
their lips no unchaste, or profane, or slanderous words ; 
they have before them a constant lesson of excellence 
which they cannot fail to understand. 

And when they see their parents temperate in eating 
and di'inking ; prudent in their habits and economical in 
their expenses, yet given to hospitality, and abundant in 
noiseless benefactions to worthy objects ; when they see 
them " recompense to no man evil, but overcome evil 
with good ; " in a word, when they see them " do justly, 
love mercy, and walk humbly with God ; " they see in 
their example, as clearly as with the flash of an angel's 
eye, their own duty. It is as if a voice from some bright 
shekinah said to them, " Go and do liliewiseP 

3. Parents should check the ji/rst apjpearance of evil 
dispositions in their children. Anger, petulance, re- 
venge, envy, cruelty, pride, vanity, obstinacy, and every 
other wrong temper, they should rebuke, by placing them 
in the clear light of God's holy law, by showing his just 
abhorrence of them, and by exhibiting the moral beauty 
and grandeur of the virtues which they displace. The 
disposition to lie is perhaps one of the most common. 
!N'early all parents are pained at detecting some indica- 
tions of it in their children. It usually first appears in 
the mild form of equivocation. But it soon passes, unless 
checked, to the bolder crime of downright falsehood. I^o 



4:14: MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

disposition is harder to correct, and none is more fatal. 
Anger, petulance, vanitj, the child may outgrow ; but 
lying, unless speedily rebuked, will soon ontgrow him. 
It is a cancer, eating into the vitals of the soul. Parents 
must therefore use their most earnest endeavors to cor- 
rect it. 

They should settle this point with their children, 
under the solemnities of eternity, that they must cease 
entirely and for ever from the disposition to lie^ or be 
doomed to remediless ruin. They should hold the words 
of God himself continually before them, " All liars shall 
have their part in the lake which l)urneth with fire and 
hrinistone^ which is the second death. ^'' 

They should aim to remove from them all tenvptations 
to lie. They should also endeavor to make them feel, so 
far as they consistently can, that they place entire con- 
fidence in their word. One of the most essential means 
of inducing children to be always truthful, is, to let them 
see that we presume they always are so. Frequently ac- 
cuse a child of lying, and he will usually first be grieved, 
then indignant, and then begin to lie. 

4. Parents should heej) their children from all vicious 
habits. Left to themselves, children will frequently con- 
tract habits whose disastrous consequences are lasting as 
life. Impure practices, indulgence in pernicious stimu- 
lants, profanity, vulgarity, obscenity, often commence be- 
fore parents suspect them. That bright and lovely son, 
that beautiful and charming daughter, too young to be 
yet capable of vicious practices, may be exposed to in- 
fluences leading directly to them. 

These corrupting influences often come from servants, 
or inmates, or from persons in the neighborhood, with 
whom their children associate. Many a child has been 
taught vicious habits by domestics in the absence of pa- 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 4:15 

rents. There are also, in most neighborhoods, evil-mind- 
ed and evil practised boys, older than others in years and 
in the arts of vice, who take pleasure in corrupting the 
young and unwary. 

The means of protecting children from such dangers, 
are mainly the following : 

First, they must be duly warned against them. Pa- 
rents must not affect to ignore them, but assume that they 
actually exist. Delicately but plainly they should point 
them out, expose their guilt and consequences, and with 
the combined earnestness of all their parental love and 
authority, warn their children against them. 

Secondly, they should have an eye to the character 
of the indwellers in then- house. It may not be in their 
power always to command religious inmates and servants, 
but nothing can justify their employing those who are 
immoral. The place for such is certainly not where they 
can corrupt and ruin children. Parents vainly hope to 
protect their children from ^the influence of harbored vice. 
They must follow the example of him who said, " I will 
set no wicked thing before mine eyes. I hate the work 
of them that turn aside ; it shall not cleave to me. A 
froward heart shall depart from me ; I will not know a 
wicked person. Mine eyes shall be upon the faithful of 
the land, that they may dwell with me. He that wallceth 
in a perfect way^ he shall serve meP Parents should also, 
as before intimated, guard their children against all bad 
influence without, keeping them from such companions 
and such places of resort as might lead to vicious habits. 

Thirdly, they should provide suitable a'tnusements for 
them. Children must have amusements of some kind. 
Their natures are adapted to them, and without them can- 
not be fully developed. They are' social ; they must have 
companions. They are ingenious ; they must have their 



416 



MOEAL PHILOSOPHT. 



little arts. They are curious and imaginative ; they must 
have some books of interesting stories. They are restless 
and active ; they must have abundance of play. They 
must have their fireside recreations and their out-of-door 
sports. All of these may be either such as to elevate and 
refine, or to debase and corrupt. It depends mostly upon 
the parents to determine which they shall be. 

5. They should most of all seek their children's spir- 
itual welfare. It is not enough that they restrain them 
from vices, and train them to habits of secular morality ; 
they are bound to regard them also in their relations to 
God. There is a higher life than that of the flesh, and 
there are more precious and enduring interests than those 
of time, which parents are bound to seek for their chil- 
dren. K they aim no higher than to see them well con- 
ditioned in the world, they aim immeasurably below their 
mark. 

If they ought to teach them benevolence and justice 
towards their fellow-beings, much more should they teach 
them to love and serve their Maker. If they ought to 
teach them to " provide things honest in the sight of all 
men " needful to the perishing body, much more should 
they teach them to treasure up the needful riches of the 
soul. They will soon be compelled to see that all the 
honors and riches of the world are dust and dross, com- 
pared with treasures in heaven. Anticipating this from 
the beginning, they should lift up their eyes to " the ever- 
lasting hills," and seek for their childi-en " an inheritance 
thatfadeth not awayJ^ 



CHAPTEK V. 



FILIAL DITTIES. 



Filial duty is the counterpart to parental. Parental 
affection, authority, government, instruction, example, and 
kindness, should be responded to with corresponding love, 
reverence, obedience, docility and gratitude, on the part 
of the children. Thus all the parental and filial duties 
are reciprocal, and equally binding upon the respective 
parties. 

But the failure of the parent to do his duty, does not 
exonerate the child from doing his. The obligations of 
children are greatly augmented by their being favored 
with loving and faithful parents ; but the bond of filial 
duty is ever upon them, although more or less modified, 
under every possible development of parental character. 



FILIAL LOVE. 



It has been previously shown that children have a pe- 
culiar natural affection for their parents. It is an affection 
which nothing but crime on the child's part can destroy. 
The parent may wound it ; he may be severe, unkind, ca- 
pricious, cruel ; he may indulge in degrading vices ; still, 
18^ 



418 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

SO long as the child is himself what he ought to be, his 
heart will jearn towards the "unnatural parent. 

All children should sacredly cherish this affection as a 
duty. To allow it to die out of the heart, or to be dis- 
placed bj other affections, is to squander one of the most 
precious of heaven's gifts, and to incur a fearful penalty. 
" Cursed is he that setteth light hy his father or mother, 
and all the people shall say. Amen." 

The absence of filial affection, or failure suitably to 
manifest it, is condemned by the general consent of man- 
kind. A child '' without natural affection " towards his 
parents, is a monster which the world seems unwilling to 
own. Every child, then, as he values the favor of both 
God and man, should cherish a deep, abiding, controlKng 
affection for his parents. There is but one earthly affec- 
tion that may transcend this ; and even that should not 
disjcilace it. "When the son or daughter leaves father and 
mother to be joined to another in marriage, it is not that 
he or she may love ]3arents less, but wife or husband 
more. 

FILIAL REVERENCE. 

Children have naturally a feeling of peculiar reverence 
for their parents. To them, under God, they owe their 
existence ; and hence they are hound to regard them with 
a kind of reverential homage, which is due to no other 
human being. This feeling blends with that of filial love, 
and is the basis of true obedience. Children who suitably 
love and revere their parents, are sure to obey them, and 
to obey from the right motives. 

Hence to honor and to obey, as indicating filial duty, 
are in the Scriptures synonymous. " Honor thy father 
and thy mother, that thy days may be long upon the land 
which the Lord thy God giveth thee." Keferring to this 



IHE CODE OF DUTIES. 419 

command, the apostle says, " Children, obey your parents 
in the Lord, for this is right. Honor thy father and 
mother; which is the first commandment with promise." 
The child who properly reveres his -parents, will al- 
ways be gentle and respectful towards them, will treat 
them with marked attention, will delicately regard their 
feelings and consult their wishes, will speak of them with 
affectionate respect, and will never allow them to be 
spoken against in his presence. 

FILIAL OBEDIENCE. 

As it is the parent's duty to govern^ so it is the child's 
duty to ohey. Upon fewer duties do the Scriptures insist 
more earnestly. " My son, hear the insi/ruction of thy 
father^ cmd forsake^not the law of thy mother ; they shall 
be an ornament of grace unto thine head, and chains about 
thy neck. Keep thy father's commandments, andforsahe 
not the la/w of thy mother. A wise son heareth his father's 
instruction ; a foolish son despiseth his mother." 

" Honor thy father and thy mother, which is the first 
commandment with promise, that it may be well with 
thee, and that thou mayest live long on the earth." 
" The eye that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey 
his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and 
the young eagles shall eat it." " K a man have a stub- 
born and rebellious son, that will not obey the voice of 
his father, or the voice of his mother, all the men of the 
city shall stone him with stones that he die." * Tlius 
persistent disobedience in a child was, under the Mosaic 
economy, punished with death. Obey he must, or he 
should not live. 

Filial obedience should always be cordial smd prompt. 

* Prov. 1 : 8. 10 : 7. Ex. 20 : 12. Prov. 30 : 7. Deut. 21 : 18. 



420 



MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 



Its quality of moral excellence depends wholly upon 
this. If it is grudged, unwilling, extorted by threat or 
punishment, it is not moral obedience. It is essential to 
the very nature of true obedience, that it be hearty, wil- 
ling, cheerful. When Christ said, "I delight to do thy 
will, O my God ; yea, thy law is within my Tieart^'' he 
expressed to his Heavenly Father the spirit of obedience, 
which children should exercise towards their earthly 
parents. 

But filial obedience is subject to some limitation. 
Parental government has a striking resemblance to the 
divine, but differs from it in one capital respect. While 
the latter never errs, the former may err. Hence cases 
may occur in which filial obedience should be withheld. 
These are of two kinds. 

First, parents may require their children to do wrong ; 
as to lie, steal, cheat, swear, violate the Sabbath, or prac- 
tise impurities. In such cases the child, ought not to 
obey ; for a higher than parental authority forbids him. 
To obey his parents, in such cases, would be to disobey 
God. The command is, " Obey your parents in the 
LordP 

Secondly, children may have religious scruples at 
variance with parental commands. In such cases duty is 
determined with less readiness. The child, while yet a 
minor, may be of a different faith from his parent, may 
wish to unite with a church which the parent disapproves ; 
or may consider himself bound by some religious obliga- 
tion, of which his parent does not feel the force, and to 
which he will not give his consent. 

In this case the child should consider the sacredness 
of the filial relation, and remember that nothing but the 
clearest will of God can justify him in disobedience. He 
should also consider his own youth and inexperience, and 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 421 

the possibility of his viewing things differently at a fu- 
ture time ; he should seek the consent of his parents, 
with a manifest desire to please them ; and finally, he 
should consider, if he cannot obtain their consent, that 
the period of his minority will soon terminate, and that 
present submission to their authority may be a more truly 
religious act than any mere formal connection with reli- 
gious ordinances. 

Such considerations will serve to keep conscience void 
of offence ; while at the same time they will render the 
necessity for resisting parental authority, from religious 
scruples, of very rare occurrence. 

FILIAL DOCILITY. 

K it is the parent's duty to teach and to set the exam- 
jpile, it is no less the child's duty to learn. Docility, or a 
disposition to learn, is one of the first and most character- 
istic duties of all childhood. Coming into the world en- 
tirely ignorant, all children alike have every thing to 
learn. Genius, however brilliant, makes no exceptions. 
Indeed genius and docility are almost synonymous terms. 
And as the parent is the first and most responsible teacher, 
so to the parent, before all others, should the child sub- 
mit himself to be taught. 

A propensity to this is implanted by nature. The 
infant child looks up to its parent earnestly, confidingly, 
submissively, for knowledge. It believes and accepts 
all. It hangs upon its parent's lips and eyes as oracles. 
It eagerly watches every action and emotion, to learn its 
destiny and duty. So marked and important is this pro- 
pensity, that Christ refers to it as indicating the spirit 
with which we must receive his gospel. " Except ye 
hecome as little children^ ye shall in no wise enter into the 
kingdom of God." 



422 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



This docility of spirit all children should cherish as a 
duty. It is indispensable to their progress in knowledge 
and virtue. It is both their ornament and security. No- 
thing is more offensive to God and man, nothing more 
surely indicates the future ruin of a child, than that spirit 
of arrogance and conceit which contemns parental instruc- 
tion. This spirit is one of the greatest dangers of the 
present generation. 

Many of the children of " Young America," where 
youth is in the ascendant, and childhood asserts the hon- 
ors hitherto accorded only to gray hairs, are becoming 
fascinated with the conceit that the law of nature has 
changed ; that the time has come for age to keep silence 
and the lips of infancy to speak ; and that they are to 
make their first demonstrations of superiority by assuming 
to be wiser than their parents. But the law of nature has 
not changed ; it is the same now as when the command 
to hearken to parental instruction was first written by the 
finger of Grod ; and they who disregard it, will eventually 
be taught their error in lessons of bitter experience. 
Thousands of ruined men are at this moment lament- 
ing in vain theii youthful folly, in not listening to the 
instructions of their parents ; and what they now suffer, 
they will also leave for those youths to suffer in their 
turn, who follow in their footsteps. 

Children blessed with good parents should also imitate 
their example. The principle of imitation is in no respect 
more active and important, than as inducing children to 
follow the example of their parents. It lays the respon- 
sibility with great emphasis upon parents to set a good 
example ; while it also fastens the duty upon 'their chil- 
dren to follow it. In this way parents become, in the 
most practical sense, the moulders of their children's 
character. 



TSE CODE OF DUTIES. 423 

The children of good parents have their lesson ever 
before them, not in the form of mere abstract principles 
and precepts, but of living example. It is a picture they 
need only to copy. They have but to imitate the justice 
and benevolence, the courage and meekness, the industry 
and self-sacrifice, the fidelity and truthfulness, the con- 
scientious regard to duty, exhibited in the daily conduct 
of their parents, and their own character is securely form- 
ed. It is by this means, preeminently, that parents are 
to train up their children in the way they should go. 

But let the child entertain the false notion, that the 
example of his parents, however good, has no binding 
force upon him ; that it even bespeaks a noble indepen- 
dence to depart from it ; let him listen to the voice which 
says, " Walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight 
of thine eyes ; " let him thus " break their bands in sun- 
der, and cast away their cords from him ; " and he is self- 
doomed to ruin. Thousands of children, instigated by 
bad companions and evil dispositions, are continually de- 
stroying themselves in this manner. The temperance, the 
sobriety, the observance of the Sabbath, the industry, the 
frugality, which have made their parents successful and 
independent, they discard as old-fashioned and puritanic, 
in favor of those freer and more self-indulgent habits 
whose end is ruin and sorrow. 

FILIAL aKATITI.T)E. 

The affectionate and self-sacrificing attentions bestowed 
by parents upon their children, demand corresponding 
returns of gratitude. The principle of gratitude is innate. 
It is often marred and sometimes perhaps quite displaced 
by wickedness, but every person true to his nature is 
grateful for benefits. He who is never grateful for favors 
is not only below humanity, but even below the brutes. 



4:24 MOEAI. PHILOSOPHY. 

But if tlie Creator thus designed that we sliould be 
grateful to all who do us good, he obviously meant that 
we should be especially so to our parents, who are our 
greatest earthly benefactors. The anxiety and pain, the 
care and thought, the watchfulness and toil, the generous 
sacrifice of ease and health and sometimes of even life itself, 
to which they cheerfully submit for the sake of their chil- 
dren, can never be by the children fully appreciated, 
until they have themselves become parents and experience 
the same. It was thus divinely intended that filial grati- 
tude, so far from ceasing with the age of minority, should 
continue to increase through life. 

A good child manifests a grateful disposition towards 
his parents, as soon as he is old enough to appreciate their 
favors. As every day renews their favors, it increases 
his feeling of obligation. ;N"or is the feeling a passive 
sentiment ; it is active and efficient. It makes him prompt 
to obey them, and to do all in his power to relieve their 
cares and contribute to their happiness. Knowing that 
they are anxious for his welfare, he strives to be worthy 
of their benefactions. As he sees them toiling to educate 
and train him for honor and usefulness, he himself toils 
for the same end. He thus throws himself into their 
plans and wishes, sympathizes with their feelings, and 
makes common cause with them in his personal welfare. 

Some may call this a selfish gratitude ; but by what- 
ever name called, its prevalence is greatly to be desired. 
If all children favored with good parents were under its 
controlling influence, the world would be rapidly redeem- 
ed from its crimes and its miseries. The gratitude of 
children thus expressed would infallibly conduct them to 
lives of virtue and honor, and would thus realize to parents 
the promise, " Instead of thy fathers shall he thy children^ 
whom thou may est inake princes in all the earth,^"^ 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 425 

But true filial gratitude by no means exhausts itself 
in this direction. It looks towards the personal welfare 
and happiness of the parents. It seeks to relieve their 
cares, lighten their burdens, anticipate their wants, and 
augment their means of comfort. 

After the grateful child has passed the years of his 
minority, and he sees the infirmity of years pressing upon 
his parents, his endeavors for their comfort are charac- 
terized by that delicacy which never allows them to feel 
that the care of them is a burden. The attentions which 
they have from his infancy bestowed upon him, he now 
returns in unceasing attentions to them. If they are 
called first to " walk through the valley of the shadow of 
death," his prayers and blessings will follow them all the 
way, until they finally disappear from the scenes of earth ; 
and, as long as he lives, his tears of grateful remembrance 
will not cease to fall upon their graves. 



CHAPTEK YI. 



FRATERNAL DUTIES 



Next to the relation of husband and wife, and of parents 
and children, is that of the children of the same family to 
each other. Born of the same parents, subject to the 
same government, trained under the same culture, heirs 
to the same inheritance, and having a common interest in 
the weal or woe of the family, their relation is very inti- 
mate, and involves some special duties. "We shall notice 
these in the most natural order. 

And first of all, they should tenderly love each other. 
The fraternal affection originates, as we have seen, in na- 
ture. Children of the same family are naturally inclined 
to love one another. This is in part owing to their being 
brought up together, but the peculiar affection to which 
we refer, is mostly due to their regarding each other as 
children of the same parents. 

This affection was implanted for an important purpose, 
and should be sacredly cherished. In order to this, every 
child has these two duties to perform. 

First, he should so conduct towards his brothers and 
sisters as to render himself lovely to them. He will thus 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 427 

deserve their affection. Bj forbearance towards their 
provocations, by acts of kindness and generosity towards 
them, by sympathy with their wants and trials, in short, 
by exhibiting towards them the true fraternal spirit, he 
may render it an easy and delightful task for them to love 
him. He may thus bind their hearts to him with cords 
that can never be broken. 

Secondly, while binding their hearts to him, he should 
also bind Ms own heart to them. He should tenderly re- 
gard them as children with himself of the same parents ; 
he should appreciate all their kindnesses, and be ever 
quick to see in them whatever is deserving of his appro- 
bation. He must be to them not the mere guardian and 
benefactor, but the affectionate brother. The fraternal 
affection is not a mere patronizing feeling on the one 
side, nor a mere grateful one on the other ; it is mutual 
and unselfish love, in view of sustaining the endearing 
relation of children of the same parents. 

This reciprocity of fraternal affection should continue 
through life. It should not be allowed to languish, after 
the children leave the parental roof. Having so conduct- 
ed towards each other while together as to give it deep 
root in their hearts, they should carefully avoid any cause, 
whether in the distribution of property or subsequent pur- 
suits, that might tend to alienation. The affection begun 
in childhood, should grow and bear fruit through all their 
lives. 

If Providence casts their lot near each other, it will 
contribute in various ways to their mutual advantage and 
happiness. It will dispose them to bear each other's bur- 
dens, and to heighten each other's joys. It will render 
sweet and delightful the social intercourse of their fami- 
lies, and thus greatly augment the pleasures of daily life 
within their enchanted circle. Brothers, sisters, and 



428 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the numerous host of cousins, are thus made happj in 
each other. The delightful intimacies of families thus re- 
lated, have a benign influence upon the moral and reli- 
gious culture of the young, and upon the stability and gen- 
eral welfare of the state. 

If their lots are cast far apart, they should cherish the 
mutual affection by correspondence. True fraternal love 
is superior to time and distance. Rolling prairies, tower- 
ing mountains, wide oceans, cannot destroy it. And 
however widely separated, brothers and sisters feel the 
power of each other's love, strengthening, cheering, bless- 
ing them, in the great battle of life. How angel-like is 
the voice of a dear brother or sister coming from a distant 
land, telling us of the heart that still loves us, of the lips 
that still pray for us ; reminding us of the " sweet home " 
that we once enjoyed together, and pointing us to our 
eternal home in heaven, where we hope to meet again. 

In a world so cold and selfish as this, fraternal love, 
deeply rooted in childhood and nurtured through life, is 
of unspeakable worth. 'No amount of parental estate, for 
which children too often contend, can compare in value 
with it. Better that the largest fortune be sunk in the 
sea, than that it should become an occasion of alienation 
between them. " Behold, how good and how pleasant it 
is for brethren to dwell together in unity J^ 



MUTUAL INFLUENCE. 

Children of the same family are so intimately related 
in their daily intercourse as to have a most decisive in- 
fluence upon each other. One bad child may, by the con- 
tagion of his words and his example, spread pestilence 
through the household. If he resists parental authority, 
example, instruction ; if he uses vulgar or profane Ian- 



THE CODE OP DUTIES. 429 

guage ; if lie indulges in vicious practices ; lie both 
teaches and emboldens the other children to do the same. 
If he is selfish, morose, fretful, he infuses the same un- 
happy spirit into those around him. If he is idle, foppish, 
vain, his influence will tend to make the others like him- 
self. If he is wasteful, extravagant, reckless, he may by 
his example become the means of ruin to the whole house- 
hold. " A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump." 

On the other hand, like an angel from the skies hov- 
ering around the family and showering blessings upon it 
from his golden wings, such is a truly loving and faithful 
elder brother to the younger children of the household. 
He is of more value to them than mines of wealth. His 
conduct wins their confidence and affection, and the in- 
fluence thus secured he exerts for their present and future 
welfare. They will remember him, with gratitude which 
words are too feeble to express, in all after time. The 
same may be true of an elder sister. 

Children should consider this before it is too late. 
Here is a duty to be done during the brief period in 
which they are together under the parental roof; a period 
soon to be passed, and never to return. 



PAETICULAE DUTY OF BROTHERS TO SISTERS. 

A brother may confer many favors upon his sisters, 
which no other person can. Their physical delicacy and 
the customs of society render them peculiarly dependent 
upon the other sex. They cannot go out of evenings 
alone or unprotected ; they must not thrust themselves 
forward into society ; they have need of peculiar caution 
in making acquaintances ; prudence forbids them to speak 
in their own behalf ; and they often endure neglect, slan- 
der, insult, rather than be bold in their own defence. 



430 MOEAI. PHILOSOPHY. 

In all these particulars a kind and judicious brother 
may render them essential service. He may favor them 
with his company and attentions ; he may assist them in 
forming suitable acquaintances; he may protect them 
from slander and insult ; he may often be the means of 
so bringing them forward in their education, and intro- 
ducing them into society, as to place them in desirable 
positions for life. 

All this should be done, not with the grudging of a 
patronizing spirit, but with the cheerful, unselfish, chival- 
rous spirit of the loving 'brother. By these delicate and 
generous attentions, he will deeply embalm himself in 
their affections ; for who ever knew the sister that did not 
love such a brother ? And more than this, he will rea- 
lize an unspeakable reward in their greatly augmented 
welfare and happiness. 



PAETICULAE DUTY OF SISTERS TO BROTHERS. 

A sister may also be of peculiar service to her brothers. 
She can do for them what none but a sister can do, at 
least so well. 

Boys are inclined to be rough and boisterous in their 
manners ; to be selfish and impatient in their demands ; 
to be fond of being absent of evenings, amidst dissipating 
excitements ; and, in various ways, to disregard the duties 
of home, and the restraints of parental authority. The 
peculiar faults of boys ofteii arise mostly from the excess 
of animalism, and the rude impatience to which it impels. 

A sister may do much towards correcting all this. By 
her gentleness and delicacy, she may refine their man- 
ners. By her kind sympathy with their trials, devotion 
to their wants, and endeavors to promote their happiness, 
she may obtain such hold on their affections as to have a 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 431 

magic sway over them. A loving and kind sister is her 
brother's intercessor with their father, and seldom fails of 
success. If they are sick, no attentions are more soothing 
than hers. She beguiles the long winter evenings with 
music, reading, and agreeable and instructive conversa- 
tion, and thus makes home attractive. 

The home of cultivated, amiable, loving sisters, faith- 
ful to their vocation, is the most charming spot upon 
earth. Seldom is a brother so wayward as to resist its 
influence. Its power over him is very great, while he is 
present ; it is scarcely less, when he is absent. If exposed 
to the temptations of a great city, if a sailor upon the 
ocean, if a stranger in foreign lands, he remembers that 
dear home, those precious sisters, the smiles and tears 
caught from them by his last parting look, and by all the 
love he bears them, feels constrained to do nothing which 
they would not approve. By the hope of again enjoying 
their society, he summons a brave heart to the conflicts 
and duties before him. 

Thus the character, the happiness, the success of 
young men depends, in a great measure, upon their sis- 
ters. Their influence is next to that of parents, and some- 
times even transcends it. 



DUTIES OF THE ELDER TO THE YOUNGEK CHILDEEIT. 

The elder children owe some special duties to the 
younger. Once the eldest child was the only one. He 
enjoyed the undivided parental affection, and all the toys, 
rights and privileges of the nursery, were under his ex- 
clusive control. But another has come to share with him, 
and now his position is materially changed. It is his first 
duty to welcome the little stranger, and cheerfully to re- 
linquish a due portion of the blessings which he has hith- 



432 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

erto possessed alone. Unselfish and iinenvious, lie must 
adopt the welfare of the little brother or sister, and seek 
it as heartily as his own. 

l^or is this all. The elder children should assist in 
taking care of the younger, and thus relieve their parents. 
Otherwise the care of parents, as their families increase, 
would often be insupportable. They cannot usually afford 
to keep servants enough to take the entire care of each 
child, and even if they could, servants cannot fill the place 
of brothers and sisters. Of these duties the children can- 
not so well judge as their parents, and should therefore 
ever be, in these as in all others, subject to their control. 

While the elder children assist their parents in pro- 
tecting and teaching the younger, they must not usurp 
authority over them. They must act the loving and 
faithful brother or sister, but not the parent. They may 
instruct, admonish, persuade, but never command and 
punish. They may, however, greatly assist parental gov- 
ernment. K they are themselves respectful and obedient, 
their admonition and example will usually be followed. 
Thus the filial piety, and even the entire character and 
destiny of the younger children, often turn upon the con- 
duct of the eldest brother or sister. 



SUSPICION OF PARTIALITY TO BE AVOIDED. 

A selfish child is prone to suspect his parents of par- 
tiality. If they do not always espouse his interest and 
gratify his wishes, he accuses them of doing better by his 
brothers and sisters than by himself. He forgets that 
others have claims as well as he. He sees with the eyes 
of a selfish individual, while his parents see with the 
eyes of a guardianship embracing alike the rights of all. 
They may see reasons for treating their children in some 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 433 

respects differently, while they have the welfare of all 
equally at heart. 

As children are adapted to different situations and 
callings, the wise parent will have due regard to this 
adaptation. Those children are unjust to a brother or 
sister, who would deprive him or her of an advantage, 
just because they are themselves incompetent to enjoy it. 
One may have the capacity to excel as a student, which 
the others do not possess. They must not envy that one 
the privilege of a liberal education, nor accuse the parents 
of partiality in affording it. If at the same time tJiei/r 
capacities are consulted, and the best possible advantages 
afforded them, no partiality is exercised. 

"While no sight is more pleasing than that of a family 
of children uniting in each other's welfare, rejoicing in 
each other's success, bearing each other's burdens, and 
never admitting jealousy or strife within their happy 
circle, nothing on the other hand is more odious than a 
family feud. Heart-burnings and contentions between 
children of the same family, whether before or after their 
legal interests are divided, are so unnatural, so monstrous, 
that both earth and heaven abhor them. 



MUTUAL OBLIGATIONS IN AFTER LIFE. 

After children have become of age and have estab- 
lished separate pecuniary interests, they should still do 
what they can, consistently with duty to their own fami- 
lies, to assist each other. JSText to his own family, a man 
should regard his brothers and sisters. Natural affection 
suggests this. He acts an unnatural part, who sees the 
children of his own parents want, when it is in his power 
to relieve them. If he is prospered, he may often pro- 
vide favorable situations for his brothers, assist to educate 
19 



434 MOEAi PHILOSOPHT. 

his sisters, and tlius be the means of placing them all in 
eligible circumstances. 

Sometimes there is an unfortunate child, maimed, 
cripple, idiotic, or through some idiosyncrasy incapable 
of self-maintenance. It is the duty of the other children, 
after the decease of the parents, to provide for him. 
I^or should they do it grudgingly. They should grate- 
fully consider their own advantages, and gladly do all 
in their power to compensate the peculiar trials of him 
less favored. Their regard to family reputation should 
unite with fraternal affection in forbidding public charity 
to support him, so long as they are able to do it. 

They should not only support him while they live, but 
make suitable provision for him by will, in case he sur- 
vives them. Their benefactions of this nature, as well as 
all others, should be regulated by a suitable regard to other 
objects. Brothers and sisters, next to their own families, 
have the first but not the sole claim upon them. There 
are other objects, educational, social, religious, which 
demand voluntary aid. It cannot therefore be one's duty 
to provide so largely for his relatives as to exonerate them 
from all necessity of effort, and bestow nothing upon 
these important objects. He has a legal right to dispose 
of his property as he pleases, however narrow and selfish 
his views ; but there is a moral demand upon him, that 
is not so summarily cancelled. On the other hand, he 
who bestows all his remaining property, after providing 
for his family, upon public objects, disregarding the wants 
of a needy brother or sister, may obtain praise of man as 
a public benefactor, but a more righteous tribunal will 
not hold him guiltless. " These ought ye to have done^ 
OMd not to leave the other undone^ 



CHAPTER yn. 



CIVIL DUTIE 



Much talent and learning have been expended upon the 
subjects of civil freedom and political economy. Beautiful 
theories of government have been framed, which have pro- 
mised a millennium of liberty and of wealth to the nations. 
But their expectations have not been realized ; nor will 
they ever be. Eedemption to the enthralled people does 
not so come. The difficulty lies deeper than most theorists 
have looked ; it is not primarily in governments, but in 
the depravity of men. Were all the angels in heaven to 
combine their wisdom to form a political system and im- 
pose it upon the nations, it would not of itself avail to 
make them contented and happy. 

The best possible government, placed over an igno- 
rant and vicious people, would be by them deemed tyran- 
^ nical and oppressive ; and, if submitted to their manage- 
ment, would be by them spoiled within a single year. A 
fortune might as well be bestowed upon profligate children 
with the expectation of its doing them good. The troubles 
of nations are not so much of their governments as of 



436 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

themselves. Both may be bad ; but if even God himself 
failed in his government to bless the people, as he would 
fain have done, because they were " stiff-necked and re- 
bellious," it can hardly be expected that political theorists 
will hit npon a plan that will prove successful, until the 
people themselves become wiser and better. 

The world is not to be saved by governments. Ke- 
demption must come to the nations by other means. 
Civil government is an effect rather than a cause ; an ex- 
ponent of what the people are, rather than a power effec- 
tive to make them what they should be. This is especial- 
ly true of all constitutional governments ; and, in fact, of 
all governments having in them any of the elements of 
civil liberty. 

Intelligence and virtue must go in advance and pre- 
pare the way. The people must be taught. Many must 
run to and fro, and knowledge must be increased. The 
public conscience must be enlightened and quickened. 
The principles of sound morality, and their practical bear- 
ings upon the individual and general welfare, must be in- 
culcated. The people must be touched and magnetized 
with the true spirit of liberty. They must be made 
to see their duties, their capabilities, and their exalted 
privileges. 

Above all, the regenerating power of the Gospel must 
be put forth upon the people, and " the leaves of the tree 
for the healing of the nations," must be scattered broad- 
cast over the world. Then " there shall be no more 
curse;" nations and governments will be what they 
ought to be. Each government will then as naturally as- 
sume the form and operation best suited to its people, as 
the human body naturally assumes the finest symmetry 
and movement, when its informing dynamic forces are in 
healthy and harmonious action. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 437 

To theorize upon the best form of government is there- 
fore no part of our present object. We have to do with 
general principles, applicable alike to all governments. 
"We are to take mankind and governments as they are, 
and to indicate the principles of civil duty under all cir- 
cumstances. 

CIVIL DUTIES DEFINED. 

Civil duties are those which relate to the state. But 
what is the state ? It is not a mere voluntary compact, 
as some have supposed, but an institution of God. People 
living together in the same country constitute a state, just 
as parents and children living under the same roof consti- 
tute a family. 

Let a company of strangers be cast upon a hitherto un- 
inhabited island, and they will there have of necessity 
certain interests in common. They become, by their po- 
sition, mutually dependent for protection and liberty, and 
are thus a state. They may not as yet have adopted any 
regulations, nor enacted any laws ; still the state is a state, 
just as the family is a family, prior to all its rules. Gov- 
ernment is the instrument^ which the state or the family 
employs to secure its ends. 

The state, then, is created by God ; government is es- 
tablished and administered by men. Yet both civil and 
family governments are authorized by God, and are thus 
sacredly binding upon us. But as the form and adminis- 
tration of governments are of men, and partake of human 
imperfections, the state may sit in judgment upon them, and 
annul or alter them, as the interests of the people demand. 

Let us then define our several positions. 

The entire body of people living together in a condi- 
tion of mutual dependence for protection and liberty, are 
the state. 



4:38 MORAli PHILOSOPHY. 

The rules and methods which the state employs to se- 
cure its ends, are civil government. 

The persons employed to administer the government, 
are magistrates. 

The subjects of government, in their direct relations 
to it as such, are citizens. 

There are, then, three general relations, in which men 
may act in the discharge of civil duties. They may act 
as the staie^ engaged in instituting government ; or as 
magistrates^ engaged in executing the will of the state ; or 
as citizens^ engaged in obeying its laws. In a monarchy, 
the first two are monopolized by the sovereign. 

In constitutional or free governments, they may be 
shared by the entire people. Human imperfection is thus 
in a great measure obviated ; since the legislator, the 
judge, and the executor, operate as salutary checks upon 
each other. If the legislator errs, self-partiality is not 
allowed to confirm his errors in judgment, but another 
must judge him. And if the judge errs, he may not con- 
firm his errors by executing his own decrees, but a dis- 
cretionary power is lodged with the chief executive magis- 
trate. Such is the beautiful arr£ jigement of constitutional 
government. 

Following the above analysis, we shall consider civil 
duties under three heads ; the duties of the state, the du- 
ties of magistrates, and the duties of citizens. 



I. DUTIES OF THE STATE. 

1. The state should adapt her government to the qual- 
ifications of the people. If the people are capable of sus- 
taining freer institutions than she allows, she keeps herself 
and her subjects in guilty and degrading bondage. But 
if she strikes for a freer government than the people can 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 439 

sustain, she perils the liberty already enjoyed. She ought, 
then, losing nothing by delay, and yet perilling nothing by 
haste, to press her government closely along with the 
qualifications of her subjects, towards the highest practi- 
cable liberty. Any attempt to effect a sudden and entire 
change of government with a view to greater liberty, is 
seldom safe. Indeed, history seems to prove that it is 
nev&r so, excepting in the case of people geographically 
separated from the parent state, and able to govern and 
protect themselves. 

2. The state should ^^ci^ce in office the hest qualified men. 
In a monarchical government, this duty rests with the sov- 
ereign; but in a republic it devolves upon all voters. 
Both they who refrain from voting, and they who vote 
from mere party or selfish motives, are false to their re- 
sponsible trust. If all refrain from voting, there can be 
no organized government, and of course anarchy is the 
alternative. If all vote from mere party spirit, regardless 
of the qualifications of their candidates, incompetent rulers 
will be chosen, and thus government will be badly ad- 
ministered. 

The true friend to his country will then be true at the 
polls. As a part of the state, he will consider it his duty 
to do his part towards the election of suitable men to 
office ; as much as it is, in the relation of subject, to obey 
its laws. 

3. The state ^ovl& provide the means for her prosper- 
ity and defence. She should provide armies, navies, for- 
tifications, and all other things needful for defence ; she 
she should also improve her harbors, facilitate the navi- 
gation of her rivers ; construct and support light-houses ; 
and do all other public works demanded by the national 
welfare. These things cannot be done by individuals. 
They are national. Individual citizens have neither the 



44:0 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ability nor the right to do them. The man who, on his 
own responsibility, erects a light-house, does as morally 
wrong an act, and may occasion as much damage, as he 
who destroys one which the state has erected. The state 
must do public works ; citizens must let them alone. 

To provide the means in question, the state should 
husband to best advantage her natural resources, as from 
the sale of her lands, &c., and if these are not sufficient, 
she must levy equitable taxes and imposts. These should 
bear equally and justly upon all trades, all kinds of pro- 
perty, and all classes of citizens. Where the state can, in 
justice to all, so levy them as to encourage desirable 
kinds of industry, and thus enhance the national wealth, 
she is bound to do so. She thus secures her two great 
ends, the protection and the industry of her subjects. 

4. The state should employ the sanctions of religion. 
She ought to be tolerant to all her subjects, never at- 
tempting to coerce the faith of any ; but she must regard 
the man of no faith as an anomaly, a thing by itself, and 
hence no legitimate part of the state. All men in the 
normal condition have some religious belief and some 
conscience ; they have a sense of accountability to a su- 
perior power. This faith the state must protect, and she 
must make use of it for the support of government. ISTo 
state can institute and enforce laws without it. She can- 
not without it even administer the civil oath. 

But when the state adopts any specific form of religious 
faith to the exclusion of all others, making it the favorite 
and the tool of government, she is false to herself and un- 
just to the people. For the state is not a part, nor a ma- 
jority, but the whole of the responsible people, and hence 
the whole of that people must be respected in their reli- 
gion. Be it but one man, and he the humblest in the na- 
tion, he is still an integral part of the state, as truly so as 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 441 

a finger or a toe is an integral part of the body. ITeither 
of them should be cut off, merely for being a small and 
feeble member. The question in morals is never one of 
mighty but always a question of right. The feeblest man 
is still a man ; his . conscience and faith, whatever they 
may be, are sacredly his own, and the state may never 
take them from him. He is for these responsible only to 
God. 

5. The state should employ judicial oaths with strict re- 
ga/rd to the religious faith of the jpeojple. No man can 
conscientiously swear upon a creed which he does not 
believe. Whenever a man does swear upon such a creed, 
his oath is of no avail. If a man acknowledges no religious 
responsibility, his oath is a nullity. He is not, as we have 
said, a legitimate part of the state. As he disowns a ra- 
tional and accountable nature, and thus takes the position 
of an animal, the state must treat him as it does other 
animals. 

Oaths are administered in cases of testimony, as when 
a man is a "fitness and swears to the truth of what he 
asserts ; and also in cases of engagement, as when a man 
enters into covenant and swears to abide by it. The for- 
mer impose fidelity in recalling and stating facts ; the lat- 
ter in discharging official duties and responsible trusts. 
Hence oaths are naturally divided into two kinds, those 
of testimony^ and those of engagement. 

The modified form of oath called affirmation^ preferred 
by the quakers, is equally valid with the usual form. 
And even an oath on the Koran, or the sacred books of 
India or China, if the subject is a religious believer in 
them, must be accepted by the state ; the right being re- 
served of attaching the due relative importance to his tes- 
timony or promise. In a Mahometan country, testimony 
or promise confirmed by an oath on the Koran would 
19* 



44:2 MOEAI. PHILOSOPHY. 

naturally pass at par value; in a Christian country, it 
might pass for less. If a man is a true and consistent be- 
liever in future retributions, his oath will pass with con- 
siderate persons for much more than if his views were 
less serious. 

As an oath is an appeal to God, a prayer for his assist- 
ance and an imprecation of his vengeance, it is a very 
solemn religious act. On this account, the taking of oaths 
on common occasions, or what is called prof a7ie swearing, 
is immoral and wicked. It is both sinful and vulgar, con- 
demned alike by Christianity and the rules of good breed- 
ing. " Swear not at all ; neither by heaven, for it is God's 
throne, neither by the earth, for it is his footstool ; neither 
by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great king. Neither 
shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not 
make one hair white or black. But let your communi- 
cations be yea, yea ; nay, nay : for whatsoever is more 
than these cometh of evil." * All profane oaths tend 
to weaken rather than strengthen the affirmation, while 
they also fix the brand of impiety and vulgarity upon 
their subject. 

But this is no more reason why judicial oaths should 
be discarded, than the fact that mock worship is often 
offered to God, is a reason why we should not worship him 
" in spirit and in truth." The state needs the solemn sanc- 
tions of religion thus applied, and in availing herself of 
them, acts under the express authority of God.f Indeed 
he has himself set us the example.:]: These facts prove 
at once the immorality and impiety of profane oaths, and 
the entire rightfulness of judicial oaths, when strictly de- 
manded. 

* Matth. 5 : 35-37. 

t See Rom. 1:9. 11. Cor. 1 : 23. I. Thess. 2:5. 

X See Isaiah 45 : 23. Jer. 49 : 13. Amos 6: 8. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 443 

But even judicial oaths should be as infrequent as pos- 
sible. Their object is to quicken and elevate the con- 
science by a solemn appeal to God, and this appeal is the 
more effective the less frequently it is made. When 
judicial oaths are administered on trivial occasions, and 
thus become common and familiar, they degenerate to a 
vulgar formality. Thoughtlessly administered and re- 
ceived, they partake of the moral quality of profane 
swearing. 

6. The state should have the control of all property. 
A man's property is his own^ only npon the condition of 
its being always subject to God and the state. God is 
the sovereign owner of all property ; the state is the 
second ; and the citizen is the third. The right of the 
citizen to control his own property, is opposed to all rights 
and attempts of other citizens to control it, bnt never to 
the higher rights of God and of the state. Thus every 
man's property is his own, only as the state makes and 
keeps it so. 

And this the state is always bound to do, reserving 
the right so to control it as best to promote the welfare of 
the people, without loss to the individual. The state 
should encourage industry and promote thrift, by secur- 
ing to each citizen the proceeds of his own labor, while 
at the same time it must not allow public and private in- 
terests to collide. 

The state has the right to impose taxes upon individual 
property, for general purposes. Education, roads, bridges, 
public buildings, legislation, courts, penalties, are ob- 
jects to be provided for by taxes upon the property of 
citizens. 

The state has also the right to appropriate private 
lands to needful public uses. She may not only tax the 
soil, but tahe it, if the public good requires, and appro- 



444 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

priate it to her own use, or to that of an incorporated 
company, always allowing the owner a fair compensation. 
Thns if the interests of the people demand a highway, a 
railroad, a bridge, a ferry, a park, it is not left for the 
citizen owning the required land to say whether the state 
shall use it for that purpose, but the state may take it and 
use it at discretion, allowing for it a reasonable compen- 
sation. 

1. The state should not allow unfair monopolies. She 
must not herself monopolize, nor must she allow any citi- 
zens to do so. She must to some extent hold property, 
and she must buy and sell. Otherwise she could not have 
forts, navy-yards, fleets, armies, and the other means of 
public defence. But she should hold the exclusive pos- 
session of property only so far as the general good de- 
mands. All wealth, so far as practicable, should be in 
the hands of the citizens. Scarcely a greater calamity 
can befall a town than to have the state hold an exclu- 
sive control of a large part of it. 

Much less may the state embark in sjpeculation. As 
her resources are mostly from the citizens, she can specu- 
late only at their risk. Especially odious is her conduct 
when, for the sake of augmenting her income, she fore- 
stalls the market and monopolizes the sale of an article 
needful for the sustenance of the citizens, and compels 
them to pay a forced price for it. This has been done in 
Great Britain and in some other states, to the great detri- 
ment of all parties. 

JSTeither may the state allow her citizens to monopolize. 
She should encourage enterprise in individuals, and she 
should encourage the same in coi-porate bodies ; but the 
interests of individuals and those of companies must not 
be allowed to conflict with each other. One of the nicest 
and most difiicult duties of the state is here demanded. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 445 

She should not only prevent these interests from collid- 
ing, but should make them mutually advantageous. A 
manufacturing corporation may be so constituted as to 
diffuse individual industry and thrift on every side, or it 
may be empowered to produce the very opposite result. 

The state must charter banks, factories, railroads, 
bridges, &c., because the general welfare demands them ; 
but she should never grant a charter conferring a mono- 
poly or any extraordinary advantages upon the grantees, 
to the detriment of the public. In a word, as the state is 
bound to consult impartially the interests of the whole 
people, she cannot afford to be generous to a jpojrt of 
them. If she is generous to some, she is unjust to 
others. 

8. The state ^ovldi foster education. It is as impor- 
tant that she provide for the education of the people, as for 
their health, wealth, and defence. Indeed, education is 
an essential means to all these. Public freedom, the first 
object of the state, cannot be sustained without a general 
diffusion of knowledge. She is therefore bound to pro- 
vide for the education of the people, and to exercise her 
legislative authority in establishing and sustaining literary 
institutions. 

But her duties lie rather in providing the means of 
education, than in directing the specific course of it. She 
is bound to see that nothing immoral or seditious is 
taught ; but further than this, her duties to literary insti- 
tutions are general. She may do too much, as well as 
too little. She should leave it for the citizens of each 
town or district, to select their teachers, locate their 
schools, and supervise them ; while the teachers should 
be usually regarded as the most competent to select the 
books, direct the studies, and secure the discipline. Even 
the higher institutions, academies, colleges, universities. 



446 MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 

are usually better directed by their teachers and over- 
seers than by the state. 

9. The state should foster religion. She is dependent 
upon it for the support of government. No good govern- 
ment ever did or can exist without it. As well might a 
palace rest suspended in the air, or the Andes repose on 
the bosom of the Atlantic, as civil government be sus- 
tained without religion. 

It is only as the state plants her authority and builds 
her government upon the fact that man is amenable to 
his Maker, and will be by him brought into judgment, 
that her authority has any force, her oaths any meaning, 
or her government any foundation. She is bound, there- 
fore, to respect the religious as well as intellectual culture 
of her subjects ; to foster religion not less than education. 

But here again, as in the case of education, she may 
do too much. She should bind no man's conscience, but 
she must assume that all men liave conscience, and are 
responsible to God for their conduct. 

First, she ^ovX.^ j^rotect religious worship. She must 
not undertake to decide for the citizens the particular form 
of their worship, but allow every man to decide that for 
himself. She may also leave it to them to defray the ex- 
pense of their worship, since some choose to expend upon 
it more than others. Those who prefer the more expen- 
sive church and ministrations should pay for them. But 
the state should impartially charter and protect the socie- 
ties of every religious creed not subversive of her institu- 
tions ; she should throw her guardian wing over them 
all alike, and sacredly regard both their worship and their 
property. 

Secondly, she should enjoin the sacred o'bservance of 
Tier Sahbath. All states have their sabbaths ; for all 
people have their special religious days. The holy day 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 44:7 

of all Christian people is of course the Christian Sabbath. 
Every Christian state is bound to protect it as sacred to 
her citizens, and as a means of sustaining just authority 
over them. She needs it to enlighten and quicken their 
consciences, to form and protect their morals, to regulate 
their domestic and social habits, and thus to render them 
enlightened and loyal subjects of her government. If 
any man's faith requires him to observe the seventh day 
as sacred, she should allow him to do so ; but she must 
not allow him to disturb the worship nor the sacredness 
of her own Sabbath. 

Thirdly, she should prohihit all tlasphemy and jpro- 
fa/ne swearing. N'o man can plead the dictates of con- 
science, as a reason for being released from such a pro- 
hibition. ]N'o man's right is invaded by not being allowed 
to profane and blaspheme God, for no man ever had any 
such right. On the other hand, the state has very serious 
rights and duties in the matter. Such immoralities tend 
to destroy all reverence for God, to annihilate the validity 
of judicial oaths, and to sap the foundations of civil gov- 
ernment. 

Fourthly, she should encourage the free circulation of 
the Bible. All states have their sacred books or oracles ; 
that of a Christian state is the Bible. Her laws are found- 
ed upon its principles and sustained by its authority. The 
more the people read and understand it, the greater will 
be the amount of liberty which the state can give them. 
She can give them thoroughly free institutions, only as they 
read and adopt the teachings of that book which is the 
charter of their liberty. Just in the degree that they be- 
come enlightened in its truths and obedient to its princi- 
ples, they become capable of understanding and sustain- 
ing free government. 

10. The state should prohibit all treasonable OMd iin- 



448 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

moral conduct. She must do so, not because such con- 
duct is displeasing to God ; for she has nothing to do with 
that consideration ; but because it is injurious to herself. 
For this reason she must have prohibitory laws with suit- 
able penalties, and magistrates to enforce them. Thus 
she must have laws against treason, murder, adultery, per- 
jury, arson, fraud, lying, seduction, uncleanness, theft, 
cruelty, slander, and other such immoralities ; and she 
should graduate their penalties, not with reference to the 
offence against God, but against herself. It is her duty to 
legislate, judge, and punish, for herself, not for God. 

Her law is not needed to keep the righteous in order ; 
they are controlled by allegiance to the higher law of God. 
But it is needed to keep the unrighteous in order, that 
they may not injure the state and invade the liberties of 
the virtuous. '' The law is not made for a righteous man, 
but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and 
sinners, for unholy and profane ; for murderers of fathers 
and murderers of mothers, for manslayers, for whoremon- 
gers, for them that defile themselves with mankind ; for 
men- stealers, for liars, for perjured persons ; and if there 
be any other thing contrary to sound doctrine." * 

* 1 Tim. 1:9. 



CHAPTEE Yin. 

CIVIL DUTIES CONTINUED. 
II. DUTIES OF MAGISTRATES. 

All persons appointed to office by the state, whether in 
the legislative, judicial, or executive departments, are 
called magistrates. We proceed to notice their respective 
duties. 

Duties of Legislatoes. — ^The legislators are men chosen 
by the people to enaxit their laws. The question arises, 
whether they are to be bound by the will of their con- 
stituents. Ought they to enact such laws as the people 
desire, or such as their own judgment approves ? 

They are usually appointed with the knowledge of 
their constituents' wishes. In such cases they are in honor 
bound to decline appointment, unless their own views 
coincide with theirs. But their own views, may change 
after their appointment, while those of their constituents 
may remain unchanged. What then? If they cannot 
execute the known judgment of their constituents without 
doing violence to their own, they should resign their office. 

The only exceptions to this rule are found in those sud- 
den emergencies, in which there is not time for them to 



4:50 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

resign, and to have their place supplied by another, be- 
fore action is demanded. The legislator must then act 
upon his own judgment, assuming the responsibility of 
doing what he honestly believes to be best for the inter- 
ests which he represents. The state may subsequently 
view the matter as he does ; he will then have saved both 
his conscience and his honor. Otherwise he has at least 
saved his conscience, and only lost a re-election to an 
office, which, as an honest man, he could not wish to 
hold. 

Duties of Jtidges. — ^The judges are men appointed to 
expound cmd apply the law. They are not ordinarily to 
decide what the law ought to be, but what it is. The 
former question has been already settled. They must 
faithfully educe the exact import and design of the law, 
and apply it impartially to the cases on hand. 

But suppose circumstances are such as to render the 
law in a particular case, at least in the letter of it, mani- 
festly wrong. The duty of the judge is then one of pecu- 
liar responsibility. He is then bound to show, in a clear 
and convincing light, not merely what the law is, but 
what it ought to be. This brings up two questions, that 
of its morality, and that of its constitutionality. As such 
cases involve the highest and most responsible function 
of the judiciary, they are usually reserved for the highest 
tribunals. 

The leading qualification of a judge is sound judg- 
ment, his leading duty, impartiality. 

Duties of Executive Officers. — ^The executive officers 
are the men who enforce the laws. They include the high- 
est functionaries of state. Autocrats, emperors, kings, 
presidents, governors, as well as the subordinate execu- 
tive officei-s, are of this class. Their power to enforce law 
is more or less absolute, according to the nature of the 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 451 

government. The autocrat concentrates all the depart- 
ments of government in himself. He enacts, judges, and 
enforces the law, according to his sovereign pleasure. 
But in a constitutional government, the power of the 
executive is more or less limited by the constitution. In 
a republic, the chief magistrate has no voice in enacting 
and judging the laws, and no power to veto their going into 
effect against a vote of two-thirds of the legislative houses. 

But as he recommends the measures to be pursued and 
the laws which he will favor, and as any law enacted by 
legislators may be by him destroyed, unless it is sustained 
by a vote of two-thirds of their entire body, an immense 
power for good or for evil is lodged in his hands. All the 
national defences, the general improvements, the public rev- 
enues, the sources of national and individual wealth, the 
provisions for education and religion, even the health and 
life of the people, are in a great measure subject to his 
control. His moral responsibility is proportionably great. 

In addition to the duty of recommending, in all his 
regular and special proclamations, the best and wisest 
measures, he has also most responsible duties relating to 
the distribution of offices, and to the vetoing and the 
pardoning powers. 

1. JRule of the distribution of offices. — It is y^sj natu- 
ral that the chief magistrate should prefer to have in office 
his political, and, so far as practicable, his personal friends. 
It is very right, too, that he should duly consider those 
who have promoted his election. But he is bound by his 
oath, and by the pure principles of morality, to allow no 
political nor personal considerations to weigh against the 
great public interest, of which he is the responsible guar- 
dian. He" should therefore never displace a faithful ser- 
vant from office and substitute an unfaithful or less com- 
petent one in his place. While favoring his friends and 



452 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

rewarding his benefactors, so far as lie consistently can, 
he must never forget that the public welfare has the first 
and highest demand npon him. 

2. Rule of the vetoing ^ower. — It is only in extreme 
cases, that the executive can be justified in vetoing a law 
fairly enacted by both branches of the legislature. The 
theory of a republic is that the majority shall rule. As a 
member of the republic, the president or governor is but 
one man, and his wish should be no more regarded than 
that of any other man. But as a chief magistrate, having 
the welfare of the entire state in his eye, be may see rea- 
sons for defeating a law, which are not obvious to men 
in other positions. 

If he is thoroughly convinced, after mature and care- 
ful deliberation, that the true welfare of the state de- 
mands the vetoing of a law submitted to his decision, he 
is morally bound to veto it, and abide the consequences. 
This is one of the few instances in a republic, in which 
the interests of the many are necessarily devolved upon 
the 'decision of one person. If his decision is sound, 
public sentiment will eventually sustain him. If it is un- 
sound, he has at least meant to do right, and the public 
only suffer the consequences of their own doing, in ap- 
pointing an incompetent ruler They must submit with 
good grace, and endeavor to act more wisely in future. 

3. Hule of the pardoning ^ower. — ^The chief magistrate 
has also the power of arresting the final execution of law. 
He may pardon or reprieve the criminal, or commute the 
penalty. The vetoing power goes hefore the judge, and 
nullifies the law itself ; the pardoning power comes aftei 
the judge, and arrests the execution of judgment. This is 
a power to take from the hands of declared justice the 
criminal upon the scaffold, to postpone his execution, or 
to substitute for it some other punishment, or to pardon 



THE CODE OP DUTIES. 453 

him outright. It is a power to do the same in less 
criminal cases. 

This is of course a most delicate and responsible trust. 
Its design is to provide for any new development of evidence 
or of palliating circumstances since the trial, affecting the 
character and deserts of the criminal. It is intended to pro- 
long the possibility of mercy till the last moment. It has 
also one other design. The criminal may have rendered 
to the state some signal service, to which consideration is 
due. The proper person to remunerate this is the chief 
magistrate. 

"When he sees, in the above grounds, clear and satis- 
factory reasons for arresting the course of law, it is his 
duty to interpose mercy. But if he pardons or reprieves 
without such reasons, he is guilty of a breach of trust. 
If he allows himself to be governed by mere sympathy, 
or party spirit, or partiality for the criminal, or if he is 
influenced by a bribe to turn aside the course of justice as 
proclaimed and enforced by the state, he is a corrupt and 
treasonable magistrate. It is easy to see that when par- 
dons and reprieves are capriciously or frequently granted, 
the law loses its power, justice ceases to be feared, civil 
courts become a mockery, and the flood-gates of crime 
are widely opened. 

But while the executive officer should be firm and de- 
cided, he should also be kind and affectionate. He should 
act the man as well as the officer. The sheriff, during all 
the time in which he has the criminal in charge, and even 
while executing his dread final task upon the scaffold, 
should do all in his power for the relief and comfort of 
the unhappy person. This is the most effectual means to 
subdue his heart and bring him to repentance. It is said 
that General "Washington sealed the death warrant of 
Major Andre with his tears. 



4:54 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 



m. DUTIES OF CITIZENS. 

Citizens are the subjects of government. Men acting 
simply in this relation, are not to make, to judge, or to 
execute the laws, but to obey them. They may be sum- 
moned and empowered by the authorities, in special 
emergencies, to assist them in enforcing law, but their 
duty, acting as mere citizens, is obedience. 

Obedience, however, is not always a duty. "When a 
man believes a law to be clearly at variance with the law 
of God, he is not ethically bound to obey it ; for his obli- 
gation to God is paramount. It is his duty in such a case 
to flee the country, or to abide the consequences of obey- 
ing God where he is. 

K a law, for instance, should require him to worship 
idols, or to abjure his faith in Christ, he could not as a 
Christian obey it. He must, like many of the early dis- 
ciples of Jesus, rather suffer martyrdom. But in all cases 
where the law of the land does not conflict with his con- 
science, he is bound to obey it. He may think it unwise 
and unjust ; he may regard it as especially prejudicial to 
his own interests ; and he may suppose that the majority 
of the people agree with him in opinion ; still, so long as 
it remains the law, his duty is to obey it. On no other 
principle can constitutional government be sustained. It 
is simply a question of law or no law, of ruFe or anarchy ; 
of a state of things in which life and property are pro- 
tected, or a state in which they are at the mercy of a mob 
or a tyrant. 

We are thus brought to the question respecting re- 
form and reformation. It is asked. Must the people pa- 
tiently endure the wrongs of government, and do nothing 
to obtain relief ? l^o. The means of relief are mostly in 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 455 

their own keeping, and it is both their right and their 
duty to employ them. They may act either as citizens, 
or as the state. As citizens, they may reform ; it is only 
as the state, that they may revolutionize. 

The form of government must naturally vary accord- 
ing to the intelligence and virtue of the people. K, then, 
any citizens would influence the government, if they would 
render it more mild and liberal, they must seek to en- 
lighten and reform the great body of the people. The 
state, adapting its government to the qualifications of the 
people, will be constrained to give them liberty according 
as they are prepared to receive it. 

Revolution with a view to more liberty, must prove 
an inevitable failure, unless the people are qualified for 
freedom. The struggle for independence, if it results in 
the overthrow of government, is followed by a brief reign 
of anarchy, which is finally quelled by a military despot- 
ism, and succeeded by a government more despotic than 
the preceding. The unwise citizens who engage in the 
struggle, lose their labor, and perhaps also their blood, 
and make things worse than they were when they began 
to agitate. 

Their way to higher liberty, then, is not in direct revo- 
lutionary measures, but in laboring to exalt the people to 
higher capabilities. They may thus secure from the state 
an increasingly liberal government, as the people are able 
to appreciate and sustain it, until they attain to all the 
essential advantages of republican institutions. Such has 
been the course of the subjects of the British government. 

They have thus induced it gradually to extend the pri- 
vileges of the people, until they have become nearly as 
great as are enjoyed in a republic. The opposite course 
has been pursued in continental states, and their govern- 
ments are still as despotic as ever. 



456 



MOKAL PHILOSOPHY. 



But here is a serious difficulty. The state cannot sus- 
tain free institutions without an intelligent and virtuous 
people, and how can the people become intelligent and 
virtuous without free institutions ? 

It is granted that without some advantages, no people 
could rise from a state of abject bondage. But none are 
deprived of all means of self-improvement. Even under 
the most oppressive governments, the people can do some- 
thing towards it. This they have often done. And as 
their qualifications for liberty rise, it becomes the duty of 
the state, as I have said, to grant it to them. Whether 
the state politic is vested in a despot, a king, an oligarchy, 
or any privileged body, her duty is the same, to conform 
to the capabilities of the people. She is morally hound 
to give them all the liberty they are able to bear. 

She should grant this, even without being requested. 
But if she does not, then the people should solicit it. If 
their request is respectful, earnest, unanimous, no state 
can long resist it. She may reluctate at a change, she 
may be unwilling to give the people a free constitution, 
or a freer one than they enjoy at present, but she cannot 
long resist the general wish of her intelligent and well- 
behaved subjects. In all countries the people actually 
rule, directly or indirectly, according to the measure of 
their intellectual and moral ability to do so. This is the 
course of nature ; it is in vain for states to contend against 
it. It is right. The people have a natural claim to all 
the liberty that is best for them ; that is, to all they can 
appreciate and protect. And this they will eventually 
have. State authorities may do much towards keeping 
the people in ignorance ; but they may as well attempt to 
restrain the central fires of the globe, as the spirit of liber- 
ty in an intelligent and virtuous people. 

Kevolution may thus be usually effected by prudence 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 467 

and moderation, without loss of blood. There may be 
desperate cases demanding desperate remedies ; bnt there 
is always danger lest the people, having risen to a degree 
of power and obtained some privileges from the state, will 
become impatient, and demand more than they are quali- 
fied to sustain, and will thus defeat their end. 

Moderation in such cases is usually the only safe course 
for the people, and therefore usually the right one. If the 
state does much towards making the people what they are, 
the people can do more towards making the state what it 
should be. K citizens wisely use whatever means they 
enjoy to rise in intellectual and moral power, they will 
eventually become, what all citizens should aspire to be, 
an essentially free, sovereign, independent people. 

The course indicated above has the sanction of Jesus 
Christ and his disciples. They never countenanced in- 
subordination. The institutions under which they lived 
and planted Christianity, were many of them very oppres- 
sive. But they nevertheless inculcated submission in all 
cases not conflicting with the commands of God. They 
abjured the sword, excepting for self-defence ; teaching 
that " all they who take the sword shall perish by the 
sword ; " while they pressed upon every man's conscience 
the duty ofirriTnediate personal repentance and righteous- 
ness. They have thus taught the enthralled world a les- 
son, to which it owes whatever of true freedom it enjoys, 
and which will ultimately be responded to by a jubilant 
pean of liberty, going up to heaven from all nations. 
" If the Son mahe you free, ye shall he free indeed.'''^ 

If Christianity thus discountenances insubordination 
and revolution by the sword, as the way to freedom, it 
may be said that she condemns the action of the American 
colonies in demanding as they did their independence of 
Great Britain. IS'ot at all. They had become, in the 
20 



458 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

course of Providence, a people ca^dble of taking care of 
themselves. They were as children grown to manhood, 
and no longer of right subject to their father. They were 
virtually a state, and so the parent state should have ac- 
knowledged them. 

It was then not so much a revolution as a declaration 
of rights of right insisted upon and maintained, that estab- 
lished the American independence. It was not a ciml 
war, but a struggle in self-defence, by a people who were, 
and of right oicght to be, a free and independent nation. 

On the same general principle, we determine the na- 
ture and extent of the citizen's right to the free use of his 
^personal will. We have said that every citizen has an in- 
alienable right to the free use of his own conscience, and 
that it is his duty to obey its dictates. As to all other 
volitions, his right to exercise them turns upon the ques- 
tion, whether they are injurious to the state ; and this the 
state must decide. The object of civil government is the 
liberty and protection of the people ; but not the liberty 
of each person to will and to act as he pleases, nor his 
protection in selfish plans and gains, to the detriment of 
the general welfare. Such a state of things is anarchy ; 
and is really the most oppressive of all tyranny. 

The choices of the individual citizen must then be re- 
sti'ained within the limits demanded by the general wel- 
fare. But there are thousands of choices which every 
man may exercise, without molesting the rights of others. 
These the state should allow and protect. Thus every 
citizen may exercise his choice in regard to his profes- 
sion or trade, his house, living, equipage, place of resi- 
dence, mfe, society, social and domestic habits, &c., &c. ; 
and so long as he does not interfere with the rights of 
others, the state must allow and protect him in such 
choices. 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 459 

But if he chooses to fence in the highway, or obstruct 
a railroad, or take his neighbor's property, or marry 
another's wife, or place a nuisance in the neighborhood, 
or vend poisons in a way to endanger life, &c., the state 
must forbid him. The liberty and welfare of the people 
demand this restraint upon the individual, and every 
citizen should cheerfully submit to it. 

The citizen is justly bound to loyalty, not only of con- 
duct, but of intention. The same act, performed by the 
same muscles and instruments, would be murder when 
prompted by one intention, and henevolence when prompt- 
ed by another. The assassin, who intentionally kills, and 
the surgeon who kindly intends to prolong life, may each 
be the occasion of death. The one is a humane person, 
and the other a murderer, purely because of their differ- 
ent intentions. 

Hence, in the eye of the state, as well as in the eye of 
God, a man is to be judged with reference to his intention. 
But there is an important difference between the cases in 
the following respects. First, the methods are different 
of ascertaining what the intention is. The state must 
judge of it by evidence ; but " God looketh on the heartP 
Secondly, the state may never inquire whether the inten- 
tion is prompted by prudence, or conscience, or loyalty 
to God ; whether it is merely virtuous, or moral, or also 
religious ; but simply whether it is true to her. With 
the question whether a man is conscientious and religious 
the state has nothing to do, but with this very question 
the divine government has every thing to do. 

Civil government is too clumsy an instrument to touch 
all the secret springs of action, nor has the state eyes to 
see them. She must not, therefore, attempt to enforce 
moral rectitude as judged by God ; she must not go be- 
hind the intentions of man, as they relate to her own 



460 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

interests. All she may demand is, that the conduct of 
her subjects indicate loyalty of purpose towards A^t', leav- 
ing their duties to the divine government to a higher 
tribunal. 

Every good citizen, whatever may be his particular 
moral and religious views, will thus readily see what the 
state justly requires of him, and will render cheerful 
obedience to its demands. 



CHAPTER IX. 



SOCIAL DUTIE 



"We have, in a previous part of tlie volume, distinguished 
between prudential and moral virtue, the former spring- 
ing from mere regard to interest, the latter from conscien- 
tious regard to duty. Thus President Edwards, adopting 
the law epitomized by Christ as the rule of duty, defines it 
as love to leing in general. This singular definition of 
universal benevolence is designed to include our obliga- 
tion to God, to ourselves, and to all other beings, modified 
by the nature and circumstances of each being, and our 
particular relation to him. 

We have seen that this law is not an arbitrary enact- 
ment, but an embodiment of the essential elements of 
moral right. Its finality, righteousness, and benevolence, 
are found in the finality, righteousness, and harmonious 
blending of its elements, and its consequent tendency to 
promote the highest moral excellence and blessedness of 
the universe. A beam of light from the sun is perfectly 
white, because it has the due blending of all the elementary 
rays. Remove one or more of them, and it ceases to be 
perfectly white ; it assumes a fiery, lurid, or sickly hue, 



462 MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 

according as one or another ray is wanting. So the law 
of God is benevolent, in a strictly moral view, only be- 
cause it has the due blending of all the elements of moral 
virtue. Eemove from it justice, or veracity, or any of its 
elements, and it ceases to be righteous ; and in ceasing to 
be righteous, it of necessity ceases to be morally benevo- 
lent. Did not the law require us to be just, truthful, &c., 
as well as merciful, it would not be a law of ti*ue moral 
benevolence, for it would not tend to the highest welfare 
of the moral universe. 

Thus the justice of God, in a moral view, is as benevo- 
lent as his mercy. " God is love." His moral attributes 
are the elements of essential excellence harmoniously 
blended, as proclaimed in his law of perfect and bound- 
less moral benevolence. ISTow what he is in his sphere, 
we ought to be in ours. Some things are proper to him 
which are not so to us, and some things are proper to us 
which are not so to him, but both he and we are all mor- 
ally bound by th 3 same law of universal love. 

The duties of all relations are in some sense social, but 
as those which we have examined have specific names, 
those of the more general relations now to be noticed, we 
conveniently designate by the general term social duties. 
They are the relations of master and servant, of teacher 
and pupil, of neighbors, of fellow-citizens, and of fellow- 
men. These are all subject to the same law of benevo- 
lence which rules the others. " Thou shalt love thy neigh- 
bor as thyself;" not merely thy wife, husband, child, 
parent, cousin, but thy fellow-being in every possible 
relation. Let us first examine the several dispositions or 
modifications of benevolence enjoined by this law in the 
relations which remain to be noticed, and then the par- 
ticular duties which they suggest. 

Courtesy. — ^This is a disposition to treat others with 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 463 

due respect. Some respect is due to all, for all partake 
of our common humanity. 'No rank nor dignity exonerates 
a person from the duty of being courteous to those beneath 
him. The respect shown should be appropriate to its ob- 
ject, but always cordial and sincere. This tends to pre- 
vent the envy and scorn which are apt to arise between 
the different classes of society. It teaches every person 
to know his place, and to respect himself in it, while it 
teaches him also to know the place of others*, and to re- 
gard them with the same consideration that he claims for 
himself. 

It is related of Washington, that wdien a man asked 
him why he returned a bow to a negro, his reply was, 
"Do you think I would be outdone in courtesy by a 
negro ? " It is characteristic of great minds to be consid- 
erate of those in the humbler walks. This virtue, so in- 
dispensable in courts and all popular assemblies, is scarce- 
ly less so in ordinary intercourse. A discourteous person, 
whether in the family, the drawing-room, the shop, the 
street, the school, the exchange, or in legislative bodies, 
is scarcely less an enemy to himself than a plague and 
torment to others. " £e courteous. ^^ 

Kindness. — This is an advance on courtesy. Courtesy 
respects; kindness benefits. The word indicates a regard 
to the welfare of human Mnd. We ought to be kind to 
all^ even to the evil and unthankful. We thus become 
" children of our Father which is in heaven ; for he 
maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and 
sendeth rain on the just and on the imjust." To be kind 
to those only who do us good, is no virtue ; it answers no 
demand of the moral law. 

True kindness is also self-sacrificing. That man has 
Qo claim to this virtue w^ho submits to no inconvenience 
Hid self-denial for the sake of doing a favor to others. It 



4:64: MORAI. PHILOSOPHY. 

is moreover mijpartial. Benefits conferred upon favorites, 
merely because they are favorites, do not proceed from 
pure kindness, but from a lower motive. 

FoRBEAEANCE. — ^This is nearly tbe same as long-suffer- 
ing. It is endurance of others' faults. "We are ever ex- 
posed to provocation from the unfaithfulness, the stupidity, 
and the passions of men. Hence forbearance is a virtue 
that should be ever on hand. A hasty spirit is irrational 
and foolish. " Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry ; for 
anger resteth in the bosom of fools." 

The forbearance of Grod is a lesson to us. We contin- 
ually offend him, yet he forbears. Were he quick to re- 
quite, we should be suddenly consumed. But days, 
months, years roll along ; we continue to offend him, and 
still he forbears. There is doubtless a limit beyond which 
forbearance ceases to be a virtue, but that limit is not 
reached until the resources of kindness have failed. If 
the " riches of kindness and forbearance " are fataUy de- 
spised, retribution must follow. But it should be with us 
a retribution mingled with compassion, not with revenge. 

" Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto 
wrath ; for it is written. Vengeance is mine, I will repay, 
saith the Lord. Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed 
him ; if he thirst, give him drink ; for in so doing thou 
shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of 
evil, but overcome evil with good." Leaving " vengeance " 
to a higher power, it is ours to pity and compassionate, 
even when compelled to punish. 

CnAiiiTY. — ^This is good will to all men. It is a generic, 
all-pervading grace. It is the "greatest;" that is, the 
most comprehensive of all. It disposes us to put a favor- 
able construction upon the conduct of others, and never 
to slander them. It rejoices in their prosperity, magni- 
fies their virtues, and apologizes for their faults. It gives 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 465 

no indulgence to evil reports against a neighbor ; and if 
compelled by resistless evidence to believe them, makes 
the least of them possible. It disposes one to be as tender 
of another's good name as of his own. It " suffereth long 
and is kind, envieth not, vannteth not itself, is not puffed 
up, doth not behave itself unseemly. Charity seeketh 
not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil ; 
rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; be- 
lieveth all things, hopeth all things, and never faileth." 
The universal prevalence of this '' greatest " of virtues 
would turn back the tide of human woes, and go far to- 
wards restoring paradise. 

II0SPITA1.1TT. — ^This is a disposition to open the home 
and spread the table to our fellow-beings. It is to be ex- 
ercised with discretion, but never with stint or grudge. 
Few virtues more enliven the affections and bless the in- 
tercourse of social life than this. They who are " given 
to hospitality " and who '' use hospitality one to another, 
without grudging," seldom fail to secure friends and to 
contribute to human happiness. 

Hospitality is often more sincere and abundant in new 
countries, or those thinly inhabited, than in more crowded 
districts. This may be because there is more demand for 
it. Under such circumstances, people are more depend- 
ent upon each other, and hence they more highly appre- 
ciate attentions. In large towns hospitality often degen- 
erates to cold formality, and sometimes quite disappears. 
But mankind are still essentially the same under all cir- 
cumstances ; and this virtue is really as needful in town 
as in country, to awaken social and kindly affections, and 
make neighbors happy in each other. 

Generosity. — ^This is a disposition to give liberally to 
worthy objects. Indiscriminate and thoughtless giving is 
not a virtue. It is prodigality. But a truly discrimina- 
20* 



466 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ting generosity is a noble, a diyine virtue. It is our duty 
to be just before we are generous ; it is no less our duty to 
be generous after we have been just. 

The state can never afford to be generous ; for she is 
a public steward, and, therefore, if generous to some must 
be unjust to others. But it is not so with individuals. 
Of the state all is due to justice. "What are sometimes 
called acts of state generosity, are only acts of justice to 
deserving persons. But individuals may pay all their 
debts, and yet have remaining the means with which to 
be generous. What we call public spirit, is generosity 
directed to public objects. The man of generous public 
spirit is a benefactor to the neighborhood, the town, the 
nation. Improvements, reforms, schools, churches, all 
the means and appliances of human culture and happi- 
ness, feel the benign influence of his benefactions and 
example. 

Faithfulness. — ^This is a ^\'&-^o%\\aotl faithfully to fulfil 
jpromises. A promise may be mutual and equally bind- 
ing on both sides. A failure on one side then absolves 
the obligation on the other. This is true of the marriage 
covenant, and of most business engagements. If the hus- 
band or wife is proved to have been unfaithful, the other 
party is absolved from the covenant. If one of the par- 
ties in a business transaction is found guilty of fraud, or 
of a serious violation of promise, connected with the trans- 
action, the other party is released from his obligation. 

But there are unconditional promises, or promises only 
on one side, on which questions of duty are raised. Should 
all such promises be kept ? The question is not whether 
it was right to mahe the promise, but whether, having 
made it, the party is bound to keep it. 

The following are cases in which the spirit of faithful- 
aess does not make the literal promise obligatory : 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 467 

1. A promise to do a wrong cvat^ is not obligatory. A 
man u:\der a bad impulse, may promise to do a wrong ac- 
tion, and may repent of it before the time for the action 
arrives. His duty is plain. 

2. An unfair promise extorted by threat^ is not bind- 
ing. When a person, for instance, is forced to an unrea- 
sonable promise by a threat to take his life or property, or 
to inflict any serious damage upon himself or his family, 
he does not promise freely, and is not bound by his pro- 
mise. 

But this does not imply that all promises made under 
constraint may be disregarded. Promises of amendment 
may be obtained from the gnilty by threat and punish- 
ment, and are as binding as those made with the highest 
freedom of choice. For they are promises to do what 
ought to be done, whether the promises are unconstrained 
or forced, or whether the gnilty persons do not promise at 
all. Such are the promises made under just punish- 
ments and threatenings inflicted by magistrates, parents, 
and teachers. 

3. Promises obtained deceitfully^ are not binding. If 
a man purchases a horse, or farm, or any article of mer- 
chandise, under false representations, promising to pay for 
the same, on discovering the deception he is released 
from his promise. The purchased property reverts to the 
seller. 

4. General promises unexpectedly and wickedly ajp- 
plied^ are not binding. Such was the promise of Herod 
to the daughter of Herodias. 

During the flrst war with England, some of the Stock- 
bridge Indians obtained a solemn promise from a woman 
of a white settlement, that she would not reveal a secret 
of which they were about to put her in possession. The 
secret was, that on a certain night they were coming to 



448 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

murder all the families in the settlement, and as she had 
shown them some favors, they wished her to leave the 
place before that time to save her own life. Believing it 
to be her duty to keep her promise, she left the settlement 
without revealing the secret. The Indians came on the 
proposed night, as they had purposed, and tomahawked 
the families while asleep in their beds. The woman kept 
her promise, but did not do her duty. It was right to 
obey her conscience, but wrong not to have better enlight- 
ened it. In keeping such a promise she was conscientiously 
unreasonable. 

The law of faithfulness demands, then, that the great- 
est caution and integrity of purpose be exercised in malc- 
ing promises, and that all promises justly made for lawful 
ends \>Q faithfully fulfilled. 

Having thus indicated the most important moral vir- 
tues or dispositions to be exercised in social life, I proceed 
to notice the particular duties which they enjoin in the 
various social relations. 



DUTIES OF MASTER AND SERVANT. 

The relation of master and servant, in some form, has 
existed from a very early period, and their respective 
duties are enjoined in the Bible. The rightfulness of the 
relation, or whether it ought to exist, depends upon cir- 
cumstances. Ko objection can be raised against volun- 
tary servitude ; as when a sailor places himself under a 
ship-master. The question respects only involuntary ser- 
vitude. That it is right for a man to bring unoffending 
fellow-beings, who are under no obligations to him, into a 
state of bondage, can never be pretended. 

Still there are circumstances which make it right to 
exact involuntary service. When a man has, by the 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 



469 



violation of law, forfeited claim to liberty, the state may 
take it from liim and compel him to labor, as in her pris- 
ons, in compensation for the expense to which he subjects 
her. But no person has a just right to the involuntary 
service of another, unless he has a fair demand upon him 
which can be met in no other way. The right is then 
limited by the demand. Sustaining the relation of master 
is not per se immoral, but it is immoral to sustain it for 
the mere benefit of the master and to the injury of the 
servant. The crime does not lie in the master's power or 
authority, but in his abuse of it. There are limits within 
w^hich the authority of the master may be as lawful as 
that of the parent. JSTor are these limits doubtful. Law- 
ful authority is power over those who are in circumstances 
of dependence, is limited by the demands of their condi- 
tion, and is to be exercised with as much regard to their 
welfare as to that of the person in authority. It is only 
as the man in authority observes this rule, that he loves 
his dependent fellow-being as himself. 

Our limits forbid an extensive discussion of this im- 
portant subject ; I would therefore submit the following 
summary of what seems to be most essential, in a purely 
ethical a lew. 

1. To bring into bondage unoffending fellow-beings 
under no obligations to us, is a crime condemned by every 
principle of justice and humanity.* Hence the criminality 
of the slave-trade. 

2. Laws conferring authority upon masters with refe- 
rence to their benefit, which do not equally regard the 
benefit of the slave, are to be held in the same light of 
criminality with the slave-trade itself. 

3. No blame attaches to those who, placed in the re- 
lation of masters by causes over which they had no con- 
trol, or by motives benevolent on their part, regulate the 
relation by the demands of justice and humanity. 



470 



MORAL PHILOSOPBTT. 



4. As the relation is that of power over feebleness and 
of authority over dependence, those with whom the respon- 
sible power and authority are intrusted, should be espe- 
cially careful to take no advantage of the feebleness and 
dependence submitted to their guardianship. 

5. As liberty is a most precious boon to all qualified 
to appreciate and use it, those in possession of it should 
do what they consistently can to secure the final and com- 
plete emancipation of all that are in bondage. 

The rules of duty between master and servant are ob- 
vious and general, applying mostly to all the relations of 
this nature, whether the service be voluntary or invol- 
untary. 

Duties of Masters. — ^The duties of masters are com- 
prehensively the following : 

1. They should be livrid and forbearing to their ser- 
vants. They should be careful not to abuse their power 
over them. They should make due allowance for their 
ignorance, their infirmities, the peculiar trials of their 
condition, and thus do for them as they themselves should 
wish to be done by in like circumstances. 

2. They should treat them as rational and accountable 
beings. In this view they should, when practicable, ex- 
plain their duty, expostulate with them, and secure their 
obedience by reasonable motives. They should allow 
them enth'e freedom t)f conscience, and opportunity for 
religious worship and edification. 

3. They should give them a just reward for their ser- 
mce. They should take no advantage of their power to 
exact more than is due. K the master has a claim upon 
the servant, he should have the amount fairly adjusted, 
allow the servant opportunity to cancel it, and be as con- 
scientiously exact and just in his dealings with him, as he 
ought to be with any other person. It is as wrong to de- 
prive the servant of his due, as to " oppress the hirelvng 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 471 

in his wages," or to ^'tui-n aside the stranger from liis 
rights." " Masters, give unto jonr servants that which 
is just and equals knowing that ye also have a master in 
heaven." 

Duties of Servants. — ^The duties of servants are briefly 
these : 

1. They should espouse the interest of their masters. 
They should regard it as they would their own. Whether 
they traffic, labor, build, cook, wait, or in any other way 
serve, they should husband his resources, allow no waste, 
do their work faithfully, and ever act with hearty refer- 
ence to his welfare. " It is required in a steward, that a 
man be io\m^ faithful^ 

2. Tliey should never require the vigilance of their mas- 
ter's eye. A higher motive should always actuate them, a 
regard to the eye of God. They should be as faithful in 
the absence as in the presence of their master ; for his 
presence imposes no new obligation. " E'ot with eye-ser- 
vice^ as men-pleasers, but in singleness of heart, fearing 
God. And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the 
Lord., and not to man.''^ 

3. They should ohey their m^asters. They must not 
demand a reason, nor take it upon themselves to decide 
what ought to be done. The ruling mind may often see 
reasons which they cannot see It may be sometimes the 
master's duty to explain, but it is their duty to obey, 
whether he explains or not, unless he requires them to 
disobey God. 

" Servants, ohey in all things your masters according 
to the flesh." " Be obedient to them that are your mas- 
ters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in 
singleness of youi' heart as unto Christ. With good will 
doing service, as to the Lord, and not to man, knowing 
that whatsoever good thing any man doeth, the same shall 



4:72 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

he receive of the Lord, whether he he hond or fuee.^'' 
" Exhort servants to be obedient to their own masters, and 
to please them well in all things, not answering again^ 
not purloining, bnt showing all good fidelity i that they 
may adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things." 

DUTIES OF TEACHERS AUD PUPILS. 

Few relations are more delicate and responsible than 
that of teacher and pupil. The most precious of all hu- 
man interests are intrusted to it. The teacher's employ- 
ers are engaged in absorbing pursuits ; he must therefore 
be himself mostly his own judge of both his duty and 
fidelity. He should, then, exercise the most severe and 
exacting conscientiousness in the discharge of his trust ; 
while the pupil, on the other hand, is equally bound to 
do all in his power to accomplish the important object of 
this relation. 

Duties of Teachers. — ^The duties of a teacher are chiefly 
the following : 

1. He should thoroughly qualify himself for his task. 
It is not enough to satisfy his committee or employers. 
A more important satisfaction is due to his own conscience. 
In bringing his mind to bear upon those of his pupils, he* 
realizes defects which no other person can see. His edu- 
cation may be incomplete, or there may have been recent 
discoveries or improvements demanding his constant study. 
He should never come before his class but with his mind 
well prepared for his work. 

2. He should maintain uniform and irrypartial disci- 
pline. In order to this, he must control his own tem- 
per. His government should be uniform, like that of Him 
who rolls the planets and rules the day in the same steady 
course, that all may know what to expect. It should be 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 473 

impartial and parental, adopting the true welfare of every 
pupil, and blending in itself both the paternal and the ma- 
ternal government. K resort must be had to the rod, it 
should be with the reluctance of a parent's heart. But if 
imperiously demanded, no false tenderness, no mawkish 
kindness, may withhold it. " Foolishness is bound in the 
heart of a child, but the rod of correction will drive it far 
from him." '' Chasten thy son while there is hope, and 
let not thy soul spare for his crying." # 

3. His instruction should he thorough. From the first 
rudiments upward, this rule should never be relaxed. 
There is often great temptation to relax it, but it cannot 
be done but by a positive moral wrong to both child and 
parent. Superficial habits of study, early or late acquired, 
influence the entire character, and enter into the whole 
field of subsequent life. Many a man's success in life has 
been defeated by wrong culture at school. Education 
should duly respect the physical, intellectual, and moral 
culture, adapting itself to the age, health, capacity, and 
circumstances of the pupil, so as to make the most of the 
means enjoyed to develope a healthy, symmetrical, and 
happy manhood. 

Duties of Pupils. — ^The pupil has his duties as well as 
the teacher. He ought to consider the expense and self- 
sacrifice of his parents, and the labor and anxiety of 
teachers, for his education, and gratefully to respond to 
them with his corresponding endeavors. He should also 
consider that the golden days which are to decide his des- 
tiny will soon pass away, and that if he neglects to im- 
prove them he will have to reflect upon his folly, as long 
as he lives, with bitter and unavailing regret. 

1. He should render cordial and prompt oledience to 
his teachers. The school or college is a state, whose gov- 
ernment is vested in its teachers ; and when the pupil 



474 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

enters it, he is morally bound by its rules, as truly as the 
citizen is bound by the laws of his country. Hence in 
both cases alike, obedience is right and honorable, and 
disobedience is immoral and base. 

The pupil, like the good citizen, should not only him- 
self obey, but he should diffuse the spirit of obedience. 
If he thinks a rule unreasonable, he may take suitable 
means to have it altered or repealed, but so long as it re- 
mains, he must obey it. Discipline can be maintained on 
no other principle. The pupil who disregards it, how- 
ever confident at the time of being in the right, is sure to 
find in the event painful evidence that he was in the 
wrong. 

2. He should industriously wpply himself to his studies. 
Unless he does so, the most earnest endeavors of his teach- 
ers will be in vain. No genius can supply the demand 
for effort. The pupil who relies upon the inspiration of 
genius, while neglecting mental discipline, is doomed to 
ultimate failure. The vain conceit of such an inspiration 
is an ignis fatuus^ that has lured many a victim from the 
path of industry and honor into the way of indolence and 
disgrace. 

E'o man ever attained to real greatness without severe 
and protracted industry. This is especially true of intel- 
lectual greatness. Genius may do much, but application 
must do more, or the pupil will never rise to eminence. 
Acting with this view, he will make a modest estimate of 
his talents and attainments ; he will be docile to learn and 
earnest to apply himself; and the higher he rises, the 
brighter he will shine in the grace of humility, the crown- 
ing glory of all excellence. 

3. He should be courteous and hind to his fellow-stu- 
dents. The happiness and prosperity of any literary insti- 
tution depend much upon the mutual feeling and inter- 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 475 

course among its members. If the spirit of fraternal 
com'tesy prevails, government is easy and teaching de- 
lightful. The mind does not thrive amidst a tempest of 
evil passions, but where the feelings are composed and 
kind. 

And nowhere are ill-will and discourtesy more out of 
place than in a literary institution, where the chafings 
and frauds of business, the clamor of politics, the noisy 
and vulgar strifes for gain, cannot enter ; where chosen 
and favored youth, retired from the world, and gathered 
around the same altar, are unitedly engaged in the calm, 
holy, and ennobling pursuit of knowledge. Such a place 
should be eminently a school of good manners ; of kind, 
generous, chivalrous feelings ; of all the social virtues. 
Every pupil is morally bound to do his part towards mak- 
ing it such. 

DUTIES OF NEIGHBORS. 

A large portion of the happiness of individuals and 
of families depends upon their doing the duties of good 
neighborhood. To be a good neighbor is no mean virtue. 
Many a man has attained to honorable fame abroad, who 
is not so well spoken of at home. Even the rulers and 
judges of the land are most in honor, only as they are em- 
balmed in the affectionate esteem of their neighbors. To 
be a good neighbor, is really a higher honor than to bear 
the highest office or the proudest title. 

The duties to which I refer involve all the cardinal 
virtues, but the leading ones here demanded are kindness, 
charity, and courtesy. Where neighbors are mutually 
hind^ sympathizing in each other's trials, and ministering 
to each other's wants ; where t\\Qj exercise that charity 
which " beareth all things," " thinketh no evil," and silences 
the tongue of slander ; and where they mutually practise 



476 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

that courtesy which softens, sweetens, and refines social 
intercourse, there is good neighborhood. 



DUTIES OF FELLOW-CITIZENS. 

The love of fellow-citizens is to some extent a natural 
afiection. For the same reason that we have a peculiar 
affection for the members of our own family, we have one 
for the members of our own state. We are not conscious 
of it, perhaps, while dwelling among them ; neither are 
we fully so of the family affection, while remaining at 
home ; but let us be called away tb foreign lands, and 
dwell among those of a ^' strange speech," and with what 
conscious satisfaction do we greet a fellow-countryman. 

As this feeling exists in nature, and must have been 
implanted for some wise end, we infer that fellow-citizens, 
as such, owe certain peculiar duties to each other. 

1. They should cherish Si fellow-affection as members 
of the same state. They should love each other as chil- 
dren of the same country, as heirs of the same national 
inheritance, as bound together in a great common cause, 
and animated by a great common hope. They should 
regard each other as compatriots. Their safety, their re- 
pose, their prosperity, and even their national existence, 
are their common interest, and, unless they are mutually 
faithful in protecting it, will be inevitably lost. 

The story of the Scythian king and the rods is as ap- 
plicable to nations as to families. Those animating words, 
fellow-citizens ! which have so often thrilled the hearts 
of compatriots in their united struggles for defence and 
liberty, should never lose their power over them. 

2. They should befriend and protect each other when 
abroad. Members of the same state, they should every 
where cherish the national feeling. This is sometimes 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 4YY 

even more important abroad than at home, for they are 
there more dependent npon each other, because few in 
number and among a strange people. 

But they may never clan together for the purpose of 
resisting the laws of the state in which they travel or re- 
side. "While enjoying the protection of a state they are 
bound to obey its laws, and to encourage others to do the 
same. Neither may they, after becoming permanent 
members of another state, so retain their national partiali- 
ties as to sympathize together in concerted efforts for a 
change of institutions. Such conduct is disorderly and 
treasonable. 

They are bound to merge their sympathies into the 
adopted state, and to become in good faith part and par- 
cel of it. They should not at first lead, but follow ; they 
should not dictate, but obey ; as all other good citizens 
do. Such should be the conduct of emigrants to this 
country, and of Americans who become the subjects of 
foreign states. If foreigners do not like the state which 
they have chosen to adopt, they should leave it, or pas- 
sively endure what they do not like and cannot lawfully 
alter. 

3. They should usually marry with each other in prefer- 
ence to foreign alliances. A union of parties from different 
nations not widely different, after becoming one in state, 
is not always objectionable ; but beyond this it becomes 
a " strange " alliance, and seldom results happily. There is 
usually more of romance and sorrow than of love and bliss 
in such unnatural marriages. Similarity of person, of 
education, of habit, of taste, and of religious faith, are 
important to a rational and permanent union of the wed- 
ded parties. 

All the above rules were sacredly enjoined by God 
upon the Hebrew nation, as means of its prosperity ; and 



4:78 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

although some reasons for them may have then existed 
which are not now in full force, the general reasons are 
still much the same. Mankind, nations, and the means 
of national and individual prosperity, are essentially the 
same in all ages. 

DUTIES OF FELLOW-MEK. 

These are the duties we owe to every individual of the 
human race, hecause he is our fellow-'bemg. He is a par- 
taker with us in a common humanity ; he has the same 
rational and accountable nature, has similar hopes and 
trials, is amenable at the same ultimate tribunal, has been 
redeemed by the same blood, and is passing on with us 
to the same grave and the same eternity. These facts 
bring him near to us, rendering him what the Scriptures 
call our " neighbor." With the same view they also call 
him our " brother." What are the duties we owe him as 
such? 

Wherever we meet him, at home or abroad, we ought 
to do by him as we would have others do by us in like 
circumstances. We should respect his interests, defend 
his rights, seek his happiness, and do him all the good in 
our power, consistently with justice to ourselves and to 
those immediately dependent upon us. " All things what- 
soever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so 
to them, for this is the law and the jprojphetsP 

ISTor is it merely those whom we meet, to whom we 
owe this debt of humanity. Our " neighbor " may not be 
as the man going to Jericho, so kindly relieved by the 
good Samaritan, who, '-'- as he journeyed, came where he 
was^ Millions to whom we owe this debt we shall never 
see. We shall not journey where they are, nor will they 
come to us. Still every man of them is om* neighbor, our 
hrother, and we must pay him a neighbor's and a brother's 



THE CODE OF DUTIES. 479 

debt. For this end, by the sacred love we bear, or ought 
to bear, to our race, we are bound to do what we can, not 
only for the welfare of those immediately about us, but 
also to diffuse the blessings of education, of free institu- 
tions, of Christianity, of temporal welfare and immortal 
hope, over the whole world. 



CONCLUSION 



SrcH, then, are the duties of man ; for these he was made. 
And he should never forget, that, as he is the subject of 
a righteous moral government, all his duties are also pri- 
vileges. His being in a fallen state, and thus disinclined 
to them, does not absolve his obligation,, nor, if he will 
accept the proffered grace of the Gospel, his ability to per- 
form them. To recover his spiritual lapse, by accepting 
this grace ; to repent of his departure from God, and to 
return to his love and service ; to trust in Christ alone for 
" redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins ; " 
and thus to go forth, " in newness of spirit," to the duties 
which we have considered ; is to fulfil his obligation as a 
rational being, and thus pursue the narrow way to eternal 
life. It is a way of self-denial, of conflict with temptation, 
of " patient continuance in well-doing," against the entice- 
ments of " the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eye, and 
the pride of life ; " but it is not all self-denial, conflict, and 
patience : incipient rewards, more valuable than mines of 
gold, succeed every good endeavor, and are finally con- 
summated in " a far more exceeding and eternal weight of 
glory." 

And there is no other way, however pleasant and in- 



480 



MOEAL PHILOSOPHY. 



viting its beginning, that does not lead to disappointment 
and ruin. So sure as man exists, lie is undone by refus- 
ing this for any other course. For the principles which 
we have examined are taught, as we have seen, both by 
nature ^nd revelation ; they challenge the severest scru- 
tiny ; they are as true and abiding as the throne of God. 
To know and obey them is the highest good. 

To shine in wealth, to dwell in palaces, to fare sump- 
tuously every day; to have honors and titles, or to com- 
mand the world's admiration for illustrious genius or in- 
tellectual attainments, is all earthly and fleeting. These 
are for a day, and all is gone ! " For all that is in the 
world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and 
the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. 
And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof; hut he 
that doeth the will of God abideth for ever^ 

Tlie struggles and the pride of wealth, the lusts of 
pleasure, the triumphs of ambition, the pursuits of know- 
ledge, will soon be over. Time sweeps along, and bears 
them all with it into everlasting oblivion. But a charac- 
ter formed upon the principles which we have examined, 
reposing firmly in the provisions of the Gospel, and rising 
heavenward in a life of supreme and unwearying devotion 
to life's great end, will abide and shine, amidst the splen- 
dors of eternity, when the universe is reduced to ashes. 

All passeth away, but God liveth aye, 

And changeth in naught ; eternal His thought, 

His Word and His WiU are steadfast and sure ; 
His Truth and His Love will never decay, 
They heal the sad heart of its deadliest smart, 

And give it the hfe that will ever endure. 



THE END. 



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